1918
by teamEdwardonly
Summary: What if Bella lived during 1918? Would the story of Bella and Edward change or remain the same?
1. New Arrival

1918

Chapter 1: New Arrival

The heat of the June sun beat down unrelentingly on me as I walked down the streets of Chicago. The city bustledaround me: carriages creaking; children playing; mothers scolding their children; near the corner of the street a few men looked ready to brawl. Life went on no matter what raged on around it. Not even a world war. Not even an epidemic of flu that killed just as many as a war, if not more. Yes, even the sun would continue to shine down despite the bleak, grey events that shrouded its subjects.

It wasn't that I didn't enjoy sunshine, but it was not so enjoyable when you were wearing a stiff, itchy nurses' uniform. I smiled a little to myself. It was still hard to think of myself as a nurse. Anyone who knew me- friends from school, certainly my family- could tell you that I had no stomach for anything to do with blood. Sometimes the mere thought of it made me lightheaded. Only a very strange twist of fate could ever make me step into a hospital willingly. But, that strange twist of fate had happened. Perhaps it was not so much strange as it was necessary. My grandfather had become sick a month ago, sick with the only sickness that seemed to be around these days: the Spanish Influenza.

The first time we visited him in the hospital, my father had to more or less drag me there. Of course I didn't want to see him there, weak and frail. Dying. That Granddad who had lived with us since my birth. His gray curly hair matted with sweat; his warm blue eyes crazy with fever. Why would I want that to be my last memory of him?

When we finally arrived there he looked exactly as I had imagined, but I found no fear in myself anymore. Only pain and guilt that my beloved grandfather had laid like this in his hospital bed and because of my selfishness and fear, he had been all alone. Though there were hundreds of other patients in the hospital with him, all dying from a common disease, I knew that he must have felt utterly alone.

I rejected any fear at that moment and resolved to return- as many times as I could. It had been bad for awhile, but the doctors and nurses saw an improvement in his health as I continued to visit him. Aside from the relief and joy I felt, this also increased my guilt- to think how much more quickly he could have recovered if I had not been so shamefully afraid!

The last rays of the sun had slipped behind clouds as I walked through the wooden doors of the Provident Hospital of Cook County. There I saw the real reason for my becoming a nurse. I would undoubtedly never have had an official position in the hospital were it not for Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Even now after having known him for weeks, I found it difficult to look him straight in the eye for too long. He was probably the most handsome person I had ever seen in my life. The dashing actors I had seen in plays and movie pictures seemed a weak comparison to him.

But it was more than that. Dr. Cullen was extremely compassionate- it was no wonder why he had chosen this particular line of work. He saved lives physically and emotionally. He was the first to note the correlation of my grandfather's improved health with my visits to him. That was when he encouraged me to visit him as often as I could.

Soon others on the staff were noticing. Most especially the head nurse, Mrs. Thornton. My mouth turned down a little as I thought of Nurse Thornton. I could not totally fault her for disliking me as she did for she had valid enough reasons. But neither did it warm me to her.

I remembered a conversation I had overheard as I sat with my grandfather one day. Dr. Cullen had been checking some of the patients near us when Nurse Thornton walked up beside him.

"Her color is much better," she observed in her thick Scottish brogue.

"Yes. Mrs. Stevens is much less restless as well. Her fever broke a few hours ago. I don't want to hope too much, but I dare say she's onto recovery."

"Your work ever since you arrived here has been astounding, Dr. Cullen. You came so shortly after the first outbreak. It must have been Providence." Nurse Thornton's face glowed with praise. She admired anyone with skill and intelligence, even when they outstretched her own.

Dr. Cullen's striking ocher eyes rose to meet mine across the space between us with a speculative look. I turned my head down at my sleeping grandfather, my cheeks flushing. I hadn't meant to eavesdrop or to be staring. I resolved to do neither from then on.

But suddenly Dr. Cullen and Nurse Thornton were talking about me and how could I not listen?

"Nurse Thornton, you flatter me too much. I am actually quite convinced that it had nothing to do with my skills as a physician and everything to do with the kindness of Miss Isabella Swan."

I did not turn my head back to look at her reaction, but I could imagine the puzzled frown that must have drawn down her features. Nurse Thornton valued only competence and ability, which was why she would find this conclusion to be incomprehensible. Especially since it was about _me_.

"Oh yes, that girl," her disapproving tone confirmed the puzzlement I had imagined. "I've been meaning to speak with you about her, Dr. Cullen. It is entirely inappropriate for a girl so young to be exposed to a hospital so much. She comes nearly every day and spends several hours here! Surely it can't be right."

Dr. Cullen's tone sounded surprised. "That is precisely what I wanted to talk with you about. Have you not noticed the increase in health in this particular area? And only since the girl started coming to visit her grandfather? I have been doing nothing different in their care and hence, can only attribute it to her influence."

Nurse Thornton's voice sounded choked with doubt. "What on earth could she be doing? She has no medical training, nor does her family. I've hardly heard her speak. She seems a quiet, shy girl."

"Perhaps, that is what makes the difference." Dr. Cullen mused. "I've often seen her help some of the other patients around her grandfather. When they need a glass of water or yell in pain- she goes to help them and they seem to respond well to her warmth and kindness. Though she may have no medical skills, she obviously makes up for that in other skills, which seem to be just as effective, if not more so, than real medicine."

I was sure Nurse Thornton did not believe this anymore than I did. It was true that when a patient started to scream from a nightmare or thirst, and there was no nurse around to care for them, there seemed nothing else I could do but try to help them. But I could never consider my stumbling, trembling words to them as a skill. It was just confusion and fright. And if they started talking to me, telling me of their life stories, their loved ones, the things that mattered most to them, how could I interrupt?

"Even so, it's not appropriate for her to be here so long." Nurse Thornton clucked her tongue and sighed in aggravation. "For being such a shy thing, she's also rather stubborn! I once suggested the impropriety of her being here, but the girl paid me no mind! I dare say she came more often after that."

I smiled a little as I continued to stare at my grandfather's sleeping face. I remembered how my lip had jutted out and jaw locked when Nurse Thornton tried to persuade me to stay out of the hospital. It seemed ridiculous to me that there should be a limit to the time I spent with an ill member of my family. And I hardly ever reacted well to being restricted.

"I was just about to suggest to you, Nurse Thornton, that if the girl needs a more appropriate reason, we can offer her one. I think the patients would benefit greatly from having her here as one of our nurses."

There was a short pause as Nurse Thornton considered that. "Do you know how old the girl is?"

"I believe I heard her talking with her grandfather about her sixteenth birthday coming in a few months."

"Well, I've seen younger nurses, of course, but they always showed some kind of medical competence." Her tone turned accusing. "This girl seems to have a weak constitution. I was just changing the bandages on Mr. Phelps the other day and she ran straight out of the room. I walked into the hallway _ten minutes_ later and she was still sitting in a chair, looking about to faint. I don't see what we'll do with her."

Dr. Cullen chuckled a little. "She seems to do well enough here in the recovery ward. We'll try to keep her out of the bad areas. Truly, can't you see the improvement of the patients around her? She nurses in her own way."

When Dr. Cullen offered me an official job at the hospital, I accepted immediately. I spent most of my time here anyway and would have continued to do so regardless. I knew Father wouldn't mind, and hopefully it would help the family finances. And it took away Nurse Thornton's excuse to vocally reprove my presence whenever she was around me. Now she just sighed her disapproval.

The hospital seemed busy as ever as I stepped into the front hall. If I had thought outside was hot with the sun beating down, it was nothing compared to inside. It was sweltering with heat; I felt beads of perspiration form almost immediately on my forehead. Everyone else appeared to be affected in a similar way.

The one exception was Dr. Cullen, standing in the hallway, staring down at the clipboard in his hand, always exactly on time to start his shift. He looked impeccable and unruffled as ever, even in the madhouse of a hospital. I never saw him break a sweat or even with a hair out of place at any time. The only time I ever noticed the strain of his job affect him was when the bruise-like shadows under his eyes deepened against his snow white skin, showing how tired he was. This made sense since Dr. Cullen always worked the longest hours, seeming very reluctant when the staff insisted he go home and get some sleep.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen."

"Good evening, Miss Swan. How are you today?"

"I'm well, thank you. How is my grandfather?"

"Continuing on his speedy recovery, thanks to your influence." He smiled at me and my feet refused to move for a second. It seemed I would never get used to his unnatural good looks. "I doubt we'll keep him here for much longer. He is almost completely out of danger. Very lucky indeed."

I sighed in relief. He had seemed so much better in so quick a time, it made me wonder why they were still keeping him there. But then they probably weren't used to recoveries at all, I thought grimly.

"May I go see him now? Or is there anything you'd like for me to do first?"

"Actually what I need your help with happens to be just next to your grandfather, so there's no problem in you visiting with them both. We just admitted some new patients today. A family, actually- Edward and Elizabeth Masen and their son."

The name was familiar to me. I had probably seen it before in the papers that Grandfather always loved to read. Not that our social circles would ever have crossed paths. The Masens were rather up in society while I was much lower. They came from an old family, old money- that was all I knew. It wasn't logical, of course, but it seemed strange to me that this family too could be touched by the disease raging through the country. In the end, not even wealth could protect you from death.

I shuddered a little at my thoughts. What kind of a nurse was I if I was already thinking of their impending demise?

"Anyway, the mother is not very bad. I think she may have gotten over the worst of it. She's next to your grandfather and I was wondering if you could just attend to her. She doesn't like hospitals, I think."

"What about the father and son? Where are they?" I asked.

His face turned grim. "That may be why she is stressed as well. They're with some of the more serious patients. The father especially doesn't look well at all. The son could be turning that way soon." He shook his head, his eyes pained.

"Oh." I said lamely. "Of course, I'll make sure to see to her as well. Thank you for telling me." I started to walk down the hall.

Again, I could not understand the confidence that Dr. Cullen seemed to place in me. Truly, I was not a gregarious person by nature. I especially felt awkward at school with my peers. It was true that I felt a little more relaxed with the older patients here- my father had always called me an old soul. Maybe it was the utter pity I felt for each person that came through the hospital that forced me to overcome my shyness and try to comfort them a little.

I didn't feel like I really did that much. Mostly I just sat and listened. Nurse Thornton had given me charge over the very most basics of nursing, so there wasn't much that I could really do medically for them. Still, I found a little gratification that others thought I was doing something well.

I walked into the recovery ward and was pleased to see my grandfather sitting up in bed. He had a cup of water in his hand and a newspaper in the other. He looked a little worn, but alert. As he saw me walk in, his gray moustache curled upward in a smile and his eyes crinkled tenderly.

"Hello Grandfather."

"How are you, my dear? I shall never grow accustomed to seeing you in this nurse's uniform. It simply does not look right. I know you and I know what nurses do, and the two are very incongruous." His smile deepened a little and I knew that he was teasing.

"Well apparently what this nurse can do helped you to recover, so be grateful." I shook a finger at him before I leaned down to kiss his wrinkled cheek. "Anything interesting in the news today?"

"Nothing but the usual, really." He sighed and his eyes furrowed as he glanced at the newspaper. "The war seems endless as always."

"But it seems there is something new going on in the hospital. I hear you have a new neighbor." I glanced to my side to view her for myself.

Elizabeth Masen sat upright in her cot. She was not looking at us; it seemed she did not hear our conversation though I knew she would have been able to. Her eyes stared unseeingly straight ahead, her fingers nervously pulling at a necklace around her throat. If I had never heard of the Masens before I still would have been able to tell that they were high class. Even with that bewildered look on her face and in the midst of a sweltering hospital, she looked elegant and refined. She was quite beautiful as well; her hair an uncommon shade of bronze and her eyes a vivid green.

Dr. Cullen said that she didn't like to be in hospitals. Well, I could certainly empathize with that, despite my sudden career choice.

"That woman does seem quite out of sorts being here." Grandfather whispered at my side. "I'm not entirely sure why she is here, she seems healthy enough. But she threw quite a fit when they took her here. I imagine it's because she's been separated from her husband and son."

Well of course she would feel that way. How could anyone stand being away from their family if they thought they were on the point of death?

"Perhaps you can set her at ease a little." Grandfather jerked his chin forward slightly, indicating in the direction of the woman. I felt a little reluctant as I always did- it was never easy for me to strike up a conversation with a stranger. But I could see that the woman was genuinely frightened and that bolstered my resolve. I walked over to her bedside.

"Hello," I began quietly. "I'm Miss Isabella Swan."

I waited for her to introduce herself, though I already knew her. Her face did not move an inch in my direction.

"And you are Mrs. Elizabeth Masen, I hear?"

Again I waited and again there was nothing in response.

"Well... I am your nurse now, and... I will be here if ever you need my help." I offered awkwardly, beginning to turn back to my grandfather. See? What on earth was Dr. Cullen going on about?

Suddenly a hand grabbed mine around my wrist. I looked back to see Mrs. Masen staring at me finally, her mouth slightly open and breathing in short gasps. Her hand gripping my wrist felt slightly warmer than it should be.

"Please," her very feminine voice was slightly roughened with emotion. "Please help me. I need to see them. I need to take care of them. They won't" -a sob broke out then. I could tell she was nearing hysterics.

Instinctively I placed a hand on the one that gripped mine. "Your husband and your son?" I asked softly.

She nodded. "They said I couldn't be with them. I don't know why. How can they get better if I'm not there to take care of them?" Her voice broke frequently as she spoke.

I knew why they couldn't be together. Because her husband and son were in a much worse condition than she was in herself. But I couldn't tell her that. What could I tell her?

"I know for a fact that your husband and son are being well cared for. Dr. Cullen is probably the best doctor in the world and he treats each patient as if he had to care for them alone. He will do everything in his power to help your family."

She seemed slightly more placated, but I did not think it would last for long.

I was right. "I need to be there!" she pleaded, her lovely green eyes boring into mine. "I need to be with them!"

I bit my lip softly. I knew they would never allow that. Not while she was so much healthier than they were. But, I wondered how her health would stand up if she continued to stay away from them, the worry eating away at her. Clearly that did not seem right either.

"That isn't possible right now, but I'm sure if you concentrate on recovering yourself, you'll be able to see them."

She seemed to understand what I was saying. While their conditions were so different, they would have to be separated. She nodded her head, still shaking slightly.

She looked at me again; her eyes seemed to burn into mine. "Then you! Please- you must go see them for me. I can't stand not knowing how they-" a sob bubbled up once again and she couldn't finish.

I didn't know what to say. I had never been in that section of the hospital before. It was basically a red zone, for me in particular. That was where all of the worst patients went and the worst patients often had a lot of blood oozing from them. The thought alone made me shiver a little. Not to mention the fact that I didn't want to see all of those people, so close to death. I didn't know the exact number of the survival rate for those interred into that section but it couldn't be very high. Nurse Thornton would surely balk at my attempt when she found me fainted away on the floor. Perhaps she would insist that I be removed from the hospital staff. I didn't think anyone, including Dr. Cullen, had ever intended for me to go into that part of the hospital.

But as I looked into Elizabeth Masen's beautiful face, so wild with worry and pain for her family, the words for refusal could not come. I knew what it felt like to be refused from seeing a loved one when they were deathly ill. Knew how it felt to be sick with guilt at not being at their side to help them. I couldn't let someone else feel that way. Not when I could ease it.

"I will." I promised solemnly.

"Now. Go now. Please."

I nodded, turning away.

"Thank you." She whispered, easing back onto the pillows- for the first time seeming more relaxed.

I glanced at Grandfather's bed for one second. He appeared to be reading his newspaper studiously, but as I continued to stare, his left eye winked, never leaving the page. I felt relief that at least someone believed in me. I certainly didn't.


	2. The Boy

Chapter 2: The Boy

Chapter 2: The Boy

It comforted me that I knew I couldn't stay long. Father was very lenient with me about rules; I had never given him any reason to be suspicious. Still, I knew he would not want me to get back too late, even with the other group of girls I walked home with. I was trying to calculate how quick I could be and still make an adequate assessment of their condition so that I could report back to Mrs. Masen truthfully. Then again, if they were hours from death, would I really be able to tell her that?

Again with the pessimism. Clearly, nursing was not my venue if it made me like this.

I wasn't exactly sure where the ward was anyway since I had only been to the recovery room with few exceptions.

Perhaps this was all a mistake. Perhaps I should turn back.

Fate or luck or whatever it was intervened for me at that moment.

"Emma, do you know where Dr. Cullen is? We really need him to help with Mr. Prior." I heard the voice from the room I had just passed.

"Yes, he's in the emergency ward- the room next to us. I'll go get him. I doubt he'll want to leave Mr. Masen, though." The nurse said this last part slightly under her breath as she walked out the door. I continued to look straight ahead, as if I was walking somewhere else with a purpose. I slowed my stride though.

I heard a short muffled exchange from the room that the nurse walked into, and then she came out with Dr Cullen. He did look slightly aggravated at having to leave his patient. Neither seemed to notice me as they headed to the other room.

Cautiously, I walked through the doorway of the emergency ward. A quick peek around ensured that I was alone. I looked at the chart that hung next to the door. On it was the name of each patient and which bed they were in. Edward Masen Senior was two beds from my left and his son, also named Edward apparently, was just beside him one further.

I saw the father first. At first glance, he looked just as you would expect a man of his social position should look. Black, ink colored hair, a thick mustache; you could tell they would have been meticulously kept normally. As such, his hair was untidy, bits of it pressed to his wide forehead from sweat. He hadn't shaved in a few weeks it looked like. It would have made another man look scraggly, wild, but Mr. Masen somehow retained a gentlemanly countenance on his face.

At first I couldn't understand why everyone kept saying that Mr. Masen was so worse off. He had no blood- thankfully- gushing from anywhere, and at first glance I wouldn't have assumed that there was anything the matter except the need to visit a barbershop. But on closer examination you saw it immediately. His skin was pallid and sickly- hardly any color in it at all. His breath came very shallowly and with a rattle in it. Though there appeared to be nothing specifically wrong with him, everything about him screamed 'AT DEATH'S DOOR' as well. I was afraid to touch him, afraid he would break with the slightest pressure.

I turned my face away. How could I tell Mrs. Masen about that?

My gaze shifted to the bed next to him and I knew immediately that this was his son. Not because they looked alike, but because the boy looked so much like Mrs. Masen. They had the same exact color hair, that rare copper. I couldn't tell if he had green eyes like her because they were closed. There was also something similar in their features, in their straightness. Somehow what complimented her feminine face equally complimented his masculine one.

But the most important similarity was that they were both beautiful. And there was no doubt, as I gazed at this boy, that he was beautiful.

I had never been interested in boys much. In my defense, I was just fifteen (though soon to be sixteen in a few months). Even then, I knew I was a late bloomer. This was just the type of boy that my friends at school would sigh and swoon over. I had never in my life found a boy interesting enough to swoon over. I wasn't even sure I ever wanted to be married; going to college and having a career seemed much more exciting. From what my father told me, this was what my mother had always envisioned for me, and I rather liked it.

This boy seemed different.

I supposed I should stop thinking of him as a boy. He looked older than me by at least a year, probably two. Yet in his stillness, with his eyes closed and untroubled, he seemed younger than he must have been. Boyish. Innocent. Vulnerable. I could not tell which made him more beautiful- his physical features or the goodness in his expression. But for a moment, as I stared down at him, his beauty stopped my heart.

A strange feeling coursed through me then. Not strange because it was unfamiliar, but because it seemed out of place.

I felt angry.

Then it seemed obvious why I should feel anger. It was only natural to be angry at anything that put this boy into such a life-threatening situation.

Though his face seemed fairly peaceful, it was marked by the stress of the illness. His skin was flushed and dewed with perspiration from the fever. His body shook slightly as if he was cold though I imagined how strongly the fever was burning his body.

I understood now why everyone said that the father looked so much worse off. Though his son displayed all of the symptoms of the disease, he still looked alive. His father looked well on his way to becoming a corpse- past all of the symptoms.

I had no medical training and I did not know how to save them. But what little I could do, I would. I searched around for another blanket, finding one in a nearby cabinet. I unfolded it over the boy, trying to cover everything from his shoulders down. My hand found the bowl of cold water on his bed stand and wrung out the rag in it.

I stopped suddenly before placing it on his forehead, hesitating. It was ridiculous to feel this way but, as I felt my cheeks flush with color, I realized that I was embarrassed, shy. It felt... too intimate.

But maybe it was simply guilt because I was all alone in an area of the hospital that I wasn't supposed to be in. That must be it.

I exhaled sharply, a little frustrated with myself. This was nothing more than trying, however ineptly, to ease someone's pain. It was not my fault that my patient just happened to look like an angel.

I placed the cold wet towel on his forehead gingerly, careful not to touch him.

He groaned a little in response.

Immediately, without any thought of what I was doing at all, my hand moved to his cheek.

Just as immediately, my hand shot back to myself, as if burned. In the instant that I had touched him, his skin had felt burning hot, but that was not why my hand had recoiled. As my hand touched the smooth skin of his cheek, a burst of electricity seemed to light each nerve ending in my hand. Even now as I held my hand, it tingled in my fingertips.

He groaned again, and again, as if my hand had a mind of its own, I found my hand lightly cupping his cheek once more. Like before, my hand tingled, but it was not so shocking. My brow furrowed at my insane hand. Well, perhaps this was simply long-repressed medical training kicking in. When he groaned in pain like that, the real Nurse Swan came out and took over, involuntarily, needing to check his temperature with her hand. This comforted me slightly. This was purely a medical procedure. It was a completely unintended and yet unavoidable benefit that I got to touch the very soft skin of his cheek.

"I love you," he whispered.

I froze. It literally felt as though I had become a statue. The sheer astonishment ran cold through my veins throughout my entire body, locking every muscle in place.

_**What?!**_

"I love you, mother," he murmured, pressing his face slightly more into my hand.

I was still unable to move for one second as the realization of what had happened made sense to me. My breath came out in short, shaky bursts. It sounded slightly hysterical.

I mostly felt an acute sense of relief. There was just a tinge of some other emotion I would not let myself define further because it would be _absolutely absurd_.

His eyes opened then and I withheld a gasp. Once again I saw the resemblance to his mother. They were a beautiful copy of her own green eyes.

He stared at me, straight into my eyes. I felt an almost magnetic pull to them. I noticed that, strangely, there was no question of who I was in his eyes.

"I won't let you be hurt. I _will_ save you."

His voice was gravelly and I could hear the exhaustion in it. But I also heard the burning sincerity in it; the intensity of his earnestness. No one could doubt that voice.

"I'm sure you will," I whispered, almost inaudible.

His brilliant eyes closed again and for a second his head rested deeper into the pillow.

Then a thick, dark red blood started to run in streams out of his nostrils.

_No!_

It was one of the many ailments of Spanish Influenza, hemorrhaging from the nose. I had overheard many of the nurses talking about it when it happened to certain patients, but had never seen it for myself. I was never in a place where I ever would see it. Except now.

I knew what I had to do. The patients went unconscious as the blood pooled in their nasal cavities. The head had to be pushed forward and downward or else the blood could flow down to their lungs and they would suffocate.

But I couldn't do that. I wouldn't be able to save his life.

Because I was too weak.

Already, the panic and nausea were seizing me. I could smell it already- the rusty smell of his blood. My limbs turned to jelly and my stomach churned. Black spots dotted my vision, blurring everything around me.

When he died, it would be my fault.

_**NO!**_

I couldn't very well _faint_ while he lay here bleeding to death! I had to hold on, had to help him.

It was a tender mercy indeed that the wet rag was still clutched in my hand. Shaking, and not really able to see, my hand felt around till it reached his face. I placed the rag under his nose, careful to not press too hard. My other hand felt to the back of his head and lifted it forward. He was unconscious still.

I shut my own eyes and grit my teeth. My knees still shook and I could feel myself sink further down a little. Once the image of blood oozing out and the smell had imbedded into my head, it was hard to get it out. I felt barely coherent. I didn't know how much longer I would last.

"Help," I tried to scream it out, but my voice only permitted a weak whisper.

Yet again, I was unusually lucky lately.

"Miss Swan?" I heard the anxious voice of Dr. Cullen from behind me. I could have collapsed in relief and very nearly did.

His hands immediately replaced mine on the rag and behind the boy's head. I wavered, unsure of my surroundings. Suddenly there was a chair beside me, though I thought for sure that the closest one was clear across the room. But then I was half-conscious so my judgment could hardly be trusted.

"What happened?" he asked as I sank unsteadily into the chair. My vision was still blurry so I couldn't read his expression as his head turned toward me.

"I'm sorry. It can wait until you are well again." His tone sounded apologetic.

"No," I breathed. "I just need a moment." Just wait for the room to stop spinning. And for my stomach to drop from my throat.

"It helps if you put your head down," he offered.

My head latched onto any idea that would make the queasiness stop. I dropped my head into my hands and they both fell into my lap.

I knew Dr. Cullen would be polite and wait for me to fully recover, but I figured answering his question was more important. And I hated anyone thinking of me as weak.

"He was fine... just a moment ago, and then... it all started... gushing... out."

"It's becoming more frequent now," he observed quietly. He exhaled very slowly.

It was silent for a moment, for which I was grateful. I took several very deep breaths, concentrating all of my attention on inhaling and exhaling. After a few minutes, my ears were no longer buzzing and I could see the fibers in my white dress through my splayed fingers more clearly. Slowly, I lifted my head and leaned against the back of the chair. I felt exhausted.

I could finally see Dr. Cullen's face. It was drawn in a slight frown.

"I'm very grateful you were here to aid Edward, but I admit... I am at a loss as to _why_ you were here."

I bit my lip and looked down at my lap again. That was of course my first mistake whenever I tried to lie. I always tried to stall for time because I had never had that ability to instantly come up with something off the top of my head. This made it all the easier to see my lie coming and why I hardly ever convinced anyone.

If it was anyone else but Dr. Cullen that I was speaking with, I still would have tried to lie in any case- for the sake of Mrs. Masen. I didn't want her to get into trouble. But something told me that the handsome, kind doctor would not reprove either of us. Even now I could see the warm concern for me in his golden eyes.

I took a deep breath and exhaled. "Mrs. Masen was very concerned for her family when I spoke with her. She... begged me to see how they were in her stead."

He sighed deeply. "And did you know they were in the emergency ward?" His tone piqued me a little. It sounded like he was talking to a two year old who got her hand stuck in the cookie jar.

Always stubborn, my chin raised a little higher as I met his gaze. "Yes."

His golden eyebrows raised a little. "And you still went?"

I nodded, a tad curt.

To my surprise, he gave a low chuckle. "I see now how I've underestimated you. I never expected to get you in here and not find you passed out on the floor. Well," he amended, "I suppose we came close to that tonight."

I waited, unsure what to say.

"I expect Mrs. Masen will send you on more trips here, won't she? Because she can't come down here, as I'm sure you informed her."

I nodded slowly, so surprised by this reaction.

He nodded to himself quickly as if making a decision. Then he laughed. "Who knows? Maybe this will improve your uh, what did Nurse Thornton call it? Weak constitution? We may see you assisting her in the operation room just yet."

My head was in my hands again, leaning forward. My disgusted groan was muffled slightly by my hands.

Dr. Cullen chuckled once more. I looked up from my hands to see that the boy- Edward- was laid once again on his cot. There was no sign of the blood that had been pouring down on his face just a few minutes ago. His angel face was back in place. The relief washed over me again.

"I have faith in you, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen's voice broke my reverie. His eyes had a strange look in them as he watched me turn from Edward. I couldn't understand it.

"I know of the magic you worked in the recovery ward of course. But I'm glad to note it is not central to a particular area."

My confusion did not lift and it must have been written plainly on my face.

"Oh I guess you would not have noticed the difference, having never seen him before. Edward looks a little better- certainly more peaceful than I've ever seen him before. And he had been rather bad just as I left to attend to Mr. Prior." He shook his head slowly and a bemused frown tugged at his lips. His eyes focused on me, piercing in their gold. "I know there's something special about you, Miss Swan. I just don't know what it is."

I laughed outright at that. There could be nothing and no one more ordinary than me. My very appearance exemplified this. Straight brown hair, (how could the Swan curls grace the balding heads of my Father's and Grandfather's head, but not my own?) and flat brown eyes. The only thing anyone ever complimented me on was my alabaster skin, but most girls had white skin anyway. Once again, I was simply ordinary. Not rich enough to hope for a good marriage; not poor enough to deserve some fairytale romance. No, my life was mundane through and through. There was actually no escaping it, I thought grimly.

I thought about what Dr. Cullen had said after he had left the room, pausing at the doorway to remind me that the other nurses I walked home with would be leaving soon.

Of course I had not done anything to help save Edward Masen's life- if anything my usual bad luck was finally resurfacing. He'd started bleeding soon after I touched him! Yet Dr. Cullen said he had been rather bad just before he'd left the room. I tried to recall any sounds of distress when I'd first entered the room, but I could remember none. Since the first time I'd seen his face, it had been so peaceful. I couldn't account for the first time I'd seen it that way- his angel's face- but I knew the exact reason why he'd been so happy and peaceful after. It certainly wasn't anything to do with me. He'd mistaken me for his mother.

I smiled despite myself. Only a person deeply entrenched in a delirium-inducing fever would ever mistake my face with the exquisite one of Elizabeth Masen's.

"Bella?" The timid squeak of Betsy Midgeons called from the doorway.

I suddenly realized that I had been staring at the boy- Edward's- face again. I didn't even know how long I'd been sitting there. I stood, keeping my face down so that Betsy wouldn't see my blush of embarrassment.

Betsy giggled, her hand covering her mouth shyly. "He _is_ very good-looking isn't he? Better than, well, even the Barrymores!"

This was quite the compliment as Betsy worshipped the Barrymores.

I rolled my eyes a little. "Yes, the poor boy lying there on the point of death is very good-looking. Now let's go."

Betsy frowned, the creeping red in her cheeks momentarily drowning the freckles that dotted her face. "Nursing isn't for you, Bella. It makes you very disagreeable."

I was about to tell her she was not the only one who had suggested that to me, when I realized I could not go home. I had promised Mrs. Masen that I would tell her how her family was doing. I could not make her wait all the hours until I came back before she could be set at ease. At least a little. I still wasn't entirely sure what I would tell her.

But it was already much later than I usually stayed. Father was lenient, but he had limits. He would be starting to worry about me now. And a worried father who happens to be the chief of police was not a good thing.

"Betsy, did you work at all with that new patient- Mrs. Masen? She's right next to my grandfather."

Betsy's eyes unfocused slightly as she tried to put a face with the name. "Oh yes! The one that just sits there staring, not saying a word? Well, not until a few minutes ago anyway. Sounded like she was screaming her head off."

"What do you mean? I mean, yes, that's who I was talking about. Did something happen?"

"Aye, the lady was dead silent anytime I was around her; I swear I never saw her so much as blink. Just as I was packing things up in the hall, I heard this sort of commotion from the room. Then I heard her shrieking- "You must take me down there! I must see them!" Dr. Cullen and Nurse Thornton had to sedate her, poor thing."

Poor Mrs. Masen indeed. I felt immediately guilty for not trying to see her sooner. She had doubtlessly been worried about her son and husband. She probably thought I had lied to her earlier, only promising to see them to placate her. I felt terrible.

But there wasn't much I could do now was there? She was fast asleep; I would not be able to tell her anything until tomorrow. With a resigned sigh, I walked out of the hospital with Betsy and our group. I hoped sleep would keep Mrs. Masen from her worries tonight.


	3. Questions

Chapter 3: Questions

Chapter 3: Questions

My own dreams that night seemed to increase my worries.

I was in the recovery room and it was filled with people. Actually there were only three people lying in cots- the rest was the entire staff of the hospital with Nurse Thornton and Dr. Cullen at the forefront. They all watched me in silence, waiting. I was standing in front of the three cots- I recognized the occupants as the Masen family. I walked forward in slow-motion, as it always feels in dreams, and found the bowl I was holding in my hands was tipping. As the bowl tipped forward, dark red blood poured from it, spilling on to the crisp white sheets of the cots. I looked back for someone to help me, but no one was there.

I woke up with my heart pounding and sweat covering my face. I was not unused to having such vivid dreams, but they had never been so horrifying.

It was a little earlier than I usually awoke, but I knew I would never get back to sleep after a dream like that. I dressed quickly in a worn brown dress that I always wore for cleaning and cooking days. My mother had died shortly after my birth and my father had never remarried so for a long time I had been the woman of the house. Father had hired a maid until I grew old enough to take care of things myself. Probably another reason why I was an "old soul".

Though my father was chief of police and a very sensible man, he'd needed to be taken care of in some of the basics of life. Along time ago, before I knew better, I had let him attempt some cooking in the kitchen. It didn't matter to me that I had been subjected to that disaster, but I had forced Grandfather to it, and that was inexcusable.

Being able to take care of the people I loved was the most important thing to me. I always wanted to protect them. This was an irrational desire since I was always so clumsy and weak, but I supposed that if I could just try my best, that had to count for something.

I put an apron on and started combining the ingredients for pancakes in a large bowl. Father always enjoyed my pancakes, but I only had time to make them when I was out of school in the summer months.

As the batter sizzled in the hot buttered pan, I made plans for the day. I really needed to wash the bed sheets. And as I looked down, the kitchen floor begged to be scrubbed. Then of course would be the daily trip to the bakery. If I had anymore time after that, I would read for a bit out of Sense and Sensibility. It was probably my fifth time reading it, yet I didn't get tired of it somehow. Finally, I would head over to the hospital. The thought of donning the itchy nurse's uniform in the sun lessened my excitement a little.

And I realized then that I was excited, or at least eager to go back to the hospital. Half-eager, half-frightened, I wanted to tell Mrs. Masen about her son, to lay aside her fears. But how could I do that? Because I knew I would have to lie. At least, I couldn't tell her the whole truth. Perhaps if she didn't ask too many questions I could get by with a generic, positive description of their conditions.

I bit my lip as I realized I very much wanted to ask my own questions about her family. Especially about her son. What kind of a boy at his age could have that angel's countenance about him?

The pancakes were finished so I started to set the table. I heard footsteps creaking above me, which meant that Father would be down in a moment.

Everything was ready by the time Father did walk down the stairs, dressed in his police officer uniform. He was not usually a morning person so, as I noted his smile, I assumed it was because I had made his favorite breakfast. It struck me then that I may have subconsciously made it to celebrate Grandfather's return in the next few days. And I realized that I still hadn't told him anything about that yet.

I smiled at him as he took his seat at the small table. "Good morning, Father. I forgot to tell you last night- I spoke with Dr. Cullen at the hospital and he said that Grandfather should be released soon."

"Really?" his eyebrows lifted a little. "That's wonderful. What a relief."

My father had always been a man of small words and he didn't express his emotions too well. His tone just now to a stranger might have sounded as if he was discussing the morning paper, but I knew that he truly was relieved at the news. We ate for a moment in companionable silence.

"So," he added another flapjack to his plate and started cutting into it. "I guess that means you won't be at the hospital anymore will you?"

My knife and fork paused on my plate and I looked at him, my mouth opened a little in surprise. "I hadn't really thought to leave the hospital after Granddad left. I think I'd like... to stay on."

"Oh," Father sounded more surprised by that than when he heard of Grandfather's return. "Are you sure, dear? I thought you were only enduring that because of Grandfather. Doesn't it make you sick still? How many times have you fainted there anyway?"

My face colored, thinking of yesterday. That was the sixth time since coming to the hospital that I'd gone into a fainting spell. Considering how adverse I was to hospitals before, I personally viewed that as a triumph.

But Father was right. Seeing my grandfather and taking care of him had been my main objective in the beginning- the only way I could stand to be in the hospital. But it was different now. I thought of Dr. Cullen and his ridiculous assumption that I had some kind of magic. I didn't believe him of course, but I felt like he counted on me to be there. And I realized that I did want to be there.

"It's gotten better," I said casually. "I was in one of the worst sections of the hospital last night and I... survived." He didn't need to know by how little I had survived- or my patient had. I shrugged my shoulders. "There's nothing else to do and some of the doctors think I'm doing good there. I don't mind staying."

He sighed, sounding a little aggravated. "You never were like the other girls your age, Bell. You should be thinking only of dresses and boys right now, instead you want to spend all of your time in a hospital filled with death." He shook his head.

I knew he was glad that I was different from other girls- that I had a sensible head on my shoulders and still had no propensity for getting into trouble by staying out late with boys. Really, in that department I knew I was every father's dream come true. I could only assume then that he thought like Nurse Thornton that a hospital was an inappropriate place for a girl like me who had no stomach for and no interest in medical issues. But I had my mind made up and there would be no turning back after that.

Which he knew very well himself. I shrugged casually in response to his complaint.

"Well, I suppose it's alright for now. But I don't think you'll have time for it once school starts." He finished off his last bite and stood. "Thank you for breakfast, dear. Try to keep away from any accidents today, alright?"

My answer was a vicious scowl.

He chuckled and walked to the entryway, sliding his arms through his top coat. He wished me a good day as he placed his policemen's hat on his head and strode out the door.

I sighed as I took our plates over to the sink. Pumping the water, I wondered myself why I was going to stay on at the hospital. I would have every reason to go once my grandfather left, one in particular being that I was sure Nurse Thornton would give me a harder time of it afterward. Perversely, that only increased my desire to stay- to prove her wrong.

I mostly felt that I couldn't leave _now_. I was too curious about the Masen family- I had to know what would happen to them. Maybe it wouldn't be too long, I thought with sudden dread.

Why did I keep doing that? Dooming them to a black fate while there was still a chance? From now on I would work on my optimism. If there wasn't anything else I could do, I could at least will them to health.

I started to scrub the kitchen floor with a little more fervor than it necessitated. I was angry at myself but I couldn't understand why at first. Most likely it was because my thoughts continued to revolve around the Masen family. Especially their son. I recalled his beautiful green eyes, boring into mine so intently, promising me that he would save me. That he would keep me safe.

Of course he hadn't been saying that to me at all. I was supposed to be his mother when he'd said that. Still, the memory alone made my heartbeat quicken. I began to scrub the floor almost violently.

It turned out to be a very long day. As I continued to check off the chores on my mental checklist, I grew more impatient with the time and myself. When I finally donned my itchy nurse's outfit, I was relieved and eager to step out once more into the baking heat.

I was a little apprehensive when I saw Nurse Thornton in the front hallway as I walked through the doors of the hospital. She looked more displeased with me than usual, which I thought would have been hard to accomplish before.

I sighed a little as I signed myself in. I had no clue what this would be about, but I could tell it would not be pleasant.

"Miss Swan," Nurse Thornton's accent came out more thickly when she was mad. "I've been informed that you were attending to Mrs. Masen yesterday, am I correct?"

The pencil I held in my hand froze on the paper. Oh no! She knows about my going into the emergency ward, about my near-fainting. She was going to tell me to not come back to the hospital. Maybe I could beg her for just a few more days- just to know what happened to the Masens. I turned back to face her and nodded slowly.

Her lips were stretched taut in a grimace. "We've been having some trouble with her lately. Last night, while the nurse went into the hall for some medicine, she snuck out and found where her husband and son are. The nurse found her there trying to take care of _them_- nursing _them_!" She exhaled shortly in exasperation. "Of all the foolish things! Trying to heal them when sick herself… fat lot of good that'll do." She shook her head, as if to dispel her ranting tirade. "Anyway, Dr. Cullen seems to want… you… to pay special mind to her." Her expression as she said this implied heavily that she could not comprehend _why_ he would want that.

I was still a little shocked that I was not going to be fired or even horribly berated for my breaking of rules. Did she really not know?

"Is… that all?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes." Her eyebrow cocked sharply. "Why? Did you expect more duties? I've seen your face at the mere _mention_ of a needle, girl. I won't be trusting you to actually stick one in."

I flinched, reconfirming her already low opinion of me.

She seemed to find that satisfactory. "Just stick with the basics, girl, like I showed you."

"Yes, ma'am."

I walked slowly to the recovery room. Mrs. Masen had actually walked the distance to the emergency ward by herself? Even after she had been sedated? I felt the guilt crush me then. Why had I stayed so long staring at the boy?! I should have just taken a quick peek and gone back to report. It could only have been a terrifying fear that would cause her to leave her bedside when sick herself. A fear I could have- should have- set at ease within minutes.

I saw Mrs. Masen's sleeping form immediately when I walked into the room. I was relieved slightly. I still needed a moment to collect my thoughts more. Grandfather was awake, of course, beside her. As always, his face crinkled up in pleasure when he saw me.

"Good evening, Grandfather. How are you today?" I laid a hand on his wrinkled one and sat in the chair beside him.

"Splendid, my dear. Just splendid. Do you have any idea as to why I might feel that way? I mean, besides your immediate presence?"

"Is it because you'll soon be freed from this unbearable prison? Just how large was your bribe for the jailer?"

"Large enough, I dare say. Of course, I shall be on parole for a while and I have very specific rules. I am under strict command to never allow myself to help you with the dishes, or laundry- and certainly no cooking. It seems I shall be forced to sit in my chair, reading my newspapers." He sighed deprecatingly. "Such a horrid life."

"Maybe I'll speak to Nurse Thornton. You're really not ready to go home if you're having such wild delusions."

He laughed outright. "Alright, alright my dear. I just like to test to see if you still have that charming wit of yours. I didn't want this time in the hospital to have dampened it."

I knew from his expression that he felt guilty for making me stay here when I had had such an aversion to hospitals. I squeezed his hand lightly and gave him a rueful smile. "Grandfather, even if I had lost my wit and even my mind by staying here, it would never make up for the time that I _hadn't_ been here and you were all by yourself."

He started to interrupt. "Child" -he sounded exasperated.

I silenced him with a finger. "Which is why my own sentence here will be extended. I'm staying on after you go."

Now he really looked exasperated. "Why the devil would you do that, girl?"

I sighed and looked at him pointedly. "Because Grandfather, other people need me to be here." My eyes slid to the still form in the cot next to us.

"Ah yes. That lady has been causing quite a bit of trouble around here," his voice was lowered to a whisper. "Always begging everyone to let her see her family. You were the only one to give in to her, you know."

Why did that not surprise me?

"How did yesterday go, by the way?"

My grimace was answer enough.

"She's been waiting for you. Kept asking me when you were going to come by again."

I did feel bad that she was asleep now. If I was going to have to do this I might as well get it over with now.

He must have seen my indecision on my face and so nudged me softly with his hands. "Go on. I'd swear on my life that woman is wide awake right now. I think she pretends so the nurses won't sedate her anymore." There was a note of pity in his voice as he said this last part.

Mrs. Masen's inert form was turned away from us. The only time her body showed any sign of life was when it raised slightly with her ordered breathing. I walked slowly to her other side. Grandfather had been right- she looked absolutely asleep from behind, but her eyes were only half-closed, staring at the cot next to her. I hesitated for a second before speaking.

"Mrs. Masen?" It came out as a nervous squeak.

Her green eyes flashed to mine, almost in a frightened way.

"You," her voice creaked softly.

I was suddenly reminded of my reluctance to talk with her. Of course she would be furious at me for not having come yesterday. Clearly, the poor woman was still desperate with worry. Would her anger at me send her into another fit?

She grabbed at my hand, clutching it tightly in her own. "Thank you. I cannot tell you how grateful I am to you. You don't know what a comfort it is to have you here."

My mouth fell open a little. That was completely the opposite of what I was expecting. Her expression was now one of fervent gratitude.

"I'm so sorry," I stuttered out. "For not coming here sooner to tell you."

She shook her head and waved her hand in the air, as if this was inconsequential. "It is no matter. Dr. Cullen told me last night, after I saw them" -I knew exactly whom she meant by _them_- "that you had checked on them before. He _promised_ me that you would see to them for me from now on."

Gah! Did he really have to promise her that? I felt a little more daunted now that I had the official sanction of the head doctor. Now that it was something they would expect from me. But her face now was filled with so much hope and utter thankfulness; I knew I would never refuse.

"I will try my best." I smiled weakly. I tried to make my voice a little sterner. "But will you promise me to never leave your bed to check on them yourself? It doesn't help them at all if you are worrying yourself sick this way."

She pursed her lips for a moment and her brow furrowed as she considered. It seemed this was a large request to ask of her. "I will try my best." Her reluctant tone copied mine.

That would have to do for now, I supposed. I sat down in a chair next to the bed. Mrs. Masen still held my hand, probably worried that I would leave too quickly. Her fears were not totally unfounded. I still had no idea what to say to her.

"Please, tell me about them," she pleaded.

My eyebrow cocked. "You saw them for yourself, apparently."

"I know. I was hoping… that they might have been different when you had seen them. They looked… terrible… when I was there." A look of horror came into her eyes as she remembered.

So they probably weren't too different from when I had been there, as they had definitely looked terrible to me when I had checked on them. I deliberated for a moment, trying to find a balance between the truth and a slightly more optimistic view. I couldn't lie to her, but I didn't want to crush her hopes either. That wouldn't do anyone any good.

"Your husband was asleep when I came in." I ducked my head down for a moment. "I didn't get a good look at him, so I'm not sure about his condition." It was true for the most part. I wasn't a doctor, so I really couldn't know if he was as close to death as it had looked. All I had were assumptions. And intuition.

Her face took on a blank look and she looked down at her lap, chin quivering a little. I doubted that she had not seen him exactly as I had before.

"Your son" -her eyes snapped back to mine- "was… more lively." I winced at my word use, but couldn't think of any other that would fit. "He even spoke for a bit."

This shocked her, but a gleam of hope entered her eyes. "What did he say?"

I felt my cheeks flood with heat. I stared at the blanket covering her bed as I spoke. "He said… that he loved you." I felt very embarrassed to be the one to be telling her this, as if I was imposing on their privacy. But more than that, the memory of his voice when he'd said that made me blush. "He also said that… he would do everything to save you," I added softly.

I glanced up quickly at her intake of breath. Her eyes were spilling over with tears. For a few moments she could not speak from the sobs that overtook her; I averted my eyes, looking down at my lap. I felt so out of place, truly not knowing how to comfort this woman that I had only known since yesterday. She would not let go of my hand though, keeping it well-grasped in hers. I started to pat it awkwardly with my other hand.

When her broken sobs turned to short bursts of exasperated laughter, my head jerked up. Had I made her go insane?

"Oh! That boy- that is so like him! Even with the horrid war, he was always trying to _save_ me." She shook her head, brow furrowed in bemusement.

I hadn't meant to, but the conversation was now heading to where I wanted it most to be- learning more about her son. I didn't want to pry- or at least I didn't want _her_ to think I was prying- so I deliberated for a second before asking.

"Was… your son a soldier in the war?" I realized a second too late that I should have used 'is'.

She didn't look like she'd noticed. "No! Thank heavens for that! But he certainly wanted to be." Her face once again took on a very aggravated look; I wondered if they had argued over this often. "He just turned seventeen a few months ago so I knew I needn't worry about it for a while. But he was so persistent, declaring that the day of his eighteenth birthday he would sign himself up straight away. I despaired the very thought of it, of course. He knew how much I hated the war and somehow that made him want to join it all the more. 'I will help end it, Mother,' he insisted. How could he not see the reason I hated it was because of the danger it put him in? I wasn't sure what I would do when he turned of age, but I was willing for anything that would keep him from joining the war." Her eyes were sad again, the anger gone. Perhaps because she had gotten her wish- something had definitely happened that would keep her son from entering any warfare. But this something had only entrenched him in another kind of war- in a battle with himself to save his own life.

I wanted to know more. "Had he always wanted to be a soldier?" I tried to make my tone light, to bring her back from her sad thoughts.

"No, and that is why it surprised me so! He had always been such a calm, sweet-tempered little boy. He wasn't easily provoked by other boys his age. They were always looking for danger, getting into trouble, causing their mothers grief. My Edward was never that way, not even as a child." She paused for a second and her lips gave a rueful twist. "Well, I should say he never got into trouble by following _their_ lead anyway. He certainly found ways to be mischievous all by himself." She sighed fondly. "Mostly, he was rather serious-minded; he took to learning and education from the start. Especially with music" -she spoke with a note of motherly pride now. I could see her love for her son in every line of her face; hear it in the very tenor of her voice. "Oh, I wish you could hear him play 'Claire de Lune'- it was always his favorite. I sometimes fancied seeing him play for a big concert hall." She smiled mistily for a second and then her expression became once again troubled. "No, he had never been like the boys his age- had never cared for their interests- so when he first began talking about joining the war, I didn't take him seriously at all. Of course, maybe if I hadn't been so frightened over it all, he wouldn't have felt like he had to…" she trailed off, lost in thought.

I could somehow see that in the boy, though I didn't know him at all. From what little I had seen last night, I reckoned that her son would do anything to keep his mother from pain.

"It sounds like your son is very protective of you." I smiled.

"Yes," her smile was hard and bitter. "And look how I've protected him."

I struggled at first to know how to set her at ease. This was something I could find a lot of empathy with- I always blamed myself for what happened to those I love. But this was a very different situation to anything I had ever been in. "You can't blame yourself for this- how could you? Your family got sick- that is no one's fault. And you all are still under the care of one of the best doctors in the country, perhaps the world. I can see already how Dr. Cullen cares for your family. He's almost inhuman in his devotion to his patients." I said this last part a little jokingly.

She stared at me, her expression intent. "Will he really do all that he can?"

"Of course. I swear if the hospital would allow it he would live here, he's so dedicated." I shook my head exasperatedly. Dr. Cullen had always insisted on taking night shifts from the start, since there were so few doctors that did want to stay during the night. I was never here to see it for myself, but I had heard the other nurses talk of how the staff had to beg him to leave when the morning shift began. He tried to tell them how he had never needed more than a few hours of sleep, but anyone who saw the dark circles under his eyes could tell he was lying. This, coupled with the care and sensitivity I had seen him display to any person that met his acquaintance, told me how little his own health mattered compared to others. I didn't doubt that Dr. Cullen would go so far as to risk his own life to save the life of any of his patients.

I sighed. "Yes, he really will do all that he can," I added quietly.

Her head rested deeper into her pillow and she closed her eyes in relief. I could see how tired she was then, how much she needed several hours of untroubled slumber. I was still selfish enough to want to ask more questions about her family, but I beat down my selfish desires for her sake.

I stood up, smoothing down the front of my dress. "I want you to sleep now. And I mean really sleep. Remember, they won't be able to get better if they hear how sick their mother is with worrying."

Her eyes opened halfway, a little bleary. There was a sudden tension in them. "Will you go see them?"

I turned to look at the clock on the opposite wall from us. How had it gone so quickly? "If I do, I don't think I'll have enough time to come back and tell you about them," I said reluctantly. Well, I might if I just took a quick peek at them, but I knew I was not capable of that. If I went in there I would need at least several minutes to stare at the boy.

She shook her head. "I don't mind. I just… want someone to be there watching over them. Someone that cares for them," she whispered.

I felt my eyes widen at her words. How could she see that so easily? Even more so, I was surprised by how much I _did_ care, how important the survival of this family who had been strangers to me just two days ago was to me now. I probably would have gone to see them anyway, without her request. The irrationality of it made me irritated with myself though.

"If you wish," I muttered.

She nodded. Her eyes widened once more as if another thought struck her. "One more thing. I'm so sorry… to be such a burden to you, but I think it will help him." She lifted herself up slightly and turned her torso to the stand next to her bedside. She opened the drawer and her hand rummaged inside for a moment until she found whatever she was looking for. She brought it out and placed it inside my own hand. I looked down to see that it was a sachet of some assortment of dried flowers. I met her gaze questioningly.

"It is a very small thing, I know." She smiled weakly. "But my son has always been fond of lavender and freesia. We always had it growing in our gardens and he often went there to do his studies. He said the scent always comforted him, relieved him of any stress. I wondered if you could put that in his room. He must… surely need it now." The desperate worry returned to her eyes.

I saw that this was a sacrifice for her. What she really wanted more than anything was to be there with her son and husband, but that could not be allowed. Still, she would try anything in her power to care for them, even while sick in a bed located hundreds of feet away.

"Yes, I will." I placed it in the front pocket of my dress.

"Thank you." Then she touched her fingers to her forehead gingerly, her brow furrowed.

"Are you alright?"

"It's nothing. Just a bit of a headache."

Another symptom of the influenza. From what I had learned, it was not just _a bit_ of a headache. It would feel like someone had driven a nail through her skull. She was most likely trying to hide the pain.

I poured her a glass of water and made her drink it. It would probably only ease it slightly. "Shall I call for another nurse for some medication?"

Her expression told me she did not want that at all. But her face also told me of how much pain she was in, not to mention the exhaustion. She was silent and looked away from me, which I took as answer enough.

I walked out of the room, glancing at Grandfather's sleeping form before I left. I told the nurse outside what Mrs. Masen needed and she stared at me with shock. They had never gotten Mrs. Masen to take medicine willingly before, neither had the woman spoken to anyone besides Dr. Cullen and Nurse Thornton. I was not so surprised to hear this and so shrugged casually in response. Thankfully, she left it at that and went into the room to administer the medicine.

I walked to the emergency ward and found Dr. Cullen there. He was standing by Mr. Masen's bedside, checking his pulse. When he noticed me walk in, his expression turned from chagrined to pleased.

"Miss Swan, it is very good to see you here again. How is Mrs. Masen?" He smiled at me knowingly.

That's right- he had _promised_ Mrs. Masen that I would be her son's and husband's personal watchdog from now on. Goodness knows I would probably have been doing that anyway, but I didn't exactly like feeling expected to do it. Once again I was irritated at the handsome doctor's illogical faith in me. This made my tone a little brusque.

"She had just developed a headache when I left her, but she took some medicine for it. She seems better now, after I told her how the _world's_ best doctor was caring for her family. She'll be expecting you to use some of your mythical powers to save them now." I was teasing him of course, but he didn't respond the way I expected. He kept his head down, his expression blank, staring at Mr. Masen's face. If I hadn't been watching closely I probably would not have noticed the slight tightening of his jaw.

I almost thought he hadn't heard me or that I had somehow offended him, when he asked quietly, "And what was her reply to that?"

"Oh, she was immensely relieved." As was I, now that he was talking again. I did not want to get on Dr. Cullen's bad side. He was one of the few advocates I had here.

"So she trusts you, I see." He smiled lightly once again as I walked to the edge of Mr. Masen's bedside.

"Much more than she should," I replied.

"That's exactly how I feel," he spoke so quietly I almost couldn't hear him. "With all of my patients, but especially this family now. For, as hard as I may try, I don't know how to help Mr. Masen here."

I looked at Mr. Masen's face for the first time since entering the room- unwillingly because I remembered what I had seen yesterday. He looked much the same- skin sallow white, body as still as the grave.

"He's started coughing."

I gasped softly and glanced quickly at Dr. Cullen and then back at the poor man lying in the cot. It was what victims usually experienced in the final stages of the sickness, a horrible rasping cough that brought up blood each time. The blood came out because it had pooled into the victim's lungs, and eventually it would grow so heavy that it would suffocate them. Now that he was exhibiting this particular symptom, it was the same as if Mr. Masen's death sentence was hanging over his head.

"He's still never regained consciousness since he arrived." He glanced behind him. "Edward, on the other hand, was alert just an hour ago."

I turned to stare at the boy next to us. I felt an immediate sense of relief upon looking at his beautiful face. In the back of my head, this puzzled me, but I would have to examine that later. He was sleeping, and again, his expression looked so peaceful, it was hard to imagine that his body was currently being ravaged by a terrible disease. I tried to ignore the twinges of deep regret that I had not been here earlier while he was awake.

"Is he any better?" I asked.

He waited a few moments before speaking, holding a hand to Mr. Masen's forehead. "Nothing has changed in his condition since yesterday. That could mean he's better. It could also mean something worse."

I think I understood what he meant. There was not a lot that anyone knew about this new and terrifying sickness- the first outbreak had only been a few months ago. Doctors were trying to study it, to recognize any patterns in it, but there had been hardly any time for that with millions dying so rapidly. What they had observed was minimal and there were many exceptions to whatever trends they found. But, in general, during the first stages of the disease, victims exhibited symptoms such as headaches, nosebleeds, and fevers. If they did not die by then, they would usually go into a sort of interim period where all symptoms went away. They could go either way at that point. Either they would fully recover or all of the symptoms would return in full force, adding to it an intense, blood-choked cough. Soon after they reached this stage, they died. It was very easy to know which stage Mr. Masen had reached. His son might be entering the interim period- either he would be just fine or it would worsen so much more.

I felt… so helpless. It was completely out of my control- this boy's life- and yet I felt so responsible. I might as well admit it- he and his family were the only reason I was staying in the hospital now. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to. Their survival was much more important to me than I had realized. I tried to not think of how much grief I would feel if they didn't survive.

I watched Dr. Cullen as he continued to check Mr. Masen's vitals. I saw that this family had become important to him as well. He cared for each patient that was interred into the hospital, but from the beginning he had shown a special fondness for this family.

It suddenly hit me then that I had no idea about Dr. Cullen's family- if he even had one. Perhaps this was why he devoted himself so ruthlessly to his patients: he had no one else. I was desperate with curiosity for a moment, and since the doctor did not seem inclined to leave, I overcame my embarrassment and tried to think of some way to begin the subject that would not sound so pertinent.

I walked over to the bedside of the boy and stared down at his face- an easy thing to do. Maybe distance would make it seem more careless. "Dr. Cullen, where did you live before you came here?" My tone was striving for casualness.

I watched him from the corner of my eyes. His back was turned from me, so all I saw was his shoulders stiffen infinitesimally. He paused only a moment before speaking.

"I was living up north- I usually prefer a colder climate than Chicago affords. I had just gotten my medical degree a few months before the outbreak struck. The reports said it was worst in the major cities, so I decided to come here."

He'd only had his medical degree for less than half a year? Yet everyone knew what incredible skill he had. He often diagnosed a patient the minute he saw them, without the usual physical assessment. That kind of skill would be typical of someone with decades of experience, not mere months. And he looked so young! I think I remembered some of the nurses saying he was around 29, but he looked much younger than that. Maybe it was simply because he was handsome beyond belief.

The curiosity was in full rage now; it debilitated my attempts at subtlety. "Did your family approve of your decision?"

Again he paused for the slightest second. His voice, during the whole exchange had been only one of detached politeness. "My parents died long ago in England. I was born there, but soon came here to America. I have no wife or children. I've been all by myself for… quite some time now." Only at the end could you hear the note of pain.

I felt terrible for bringing it up. I struggled for someway to comfort him, but I could only think of generic replies.

"I'm sure someday-"

He laughed softly though I could hear no real humor in it. "I doubt it. No, no… I'm becoming more and more thoroughly convinced that there is no one else like me in this world. The only way I suppose would be to follow the footsteps of Pygmalion- create someone and mold them into what I want." His voice was hard and bitter.

I was so glad we were having this conversation without looking at each other. The awkwardness of it all was tangible enough without my having to look into his eyes and actually see the pain I could hear in his voice. Once again I wished desperately that I knew how to comfort people, but my mind was blank.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he sighed. "Forgive me, Miss Swan. Do not waste one thought of pity on me. I'm quite content on my own. And taking care of these patients is more than enough for me."

I heard his footsteps as he walked out of the door. I chided myself for having had no restraint on my curiosity on a subject that was entirely inappropriate for me to ask about. I hoped I had not angered him; if I no longer had the approval of Dr. Cullen, I would no longer be allowed to come to the hospital. And I wanted to be here more than ever.

I stared down at the boy, remembering my purpose in coming. My hand slid to the pocket on the front of my dress and found the sachet. I placed it next to his face on the pillow.

My job was done; I was free to leave, yet my wicked hands once again did not seem to listen. Without thinking, the back of my fingers brushed across his smooth forehead lightly in one sweep. It seemed only slightly warmer than it should be and his skin was only faintly damp. But more than anything, I felt once more the current of electricity that I was coming to expect each time I touched him. The corners of his lips turned up a little and he breathed more deeply.

Now that I knew more about him, now that I could attach more of a character to the body lying in the cot here, it was easier to stop thinking of him as just 'the boy'. He had a real name and there was a real person behind that name. A beautiful person. Though I was learning more about the individual behind the face, it did not lessen his angel's countenance one bit. In fact, it only increased it.

"Sleep well, Edward," I whispered. I felt a jolt of surprise at how much pleasure it gave just to say his name aloud. Unwillingly, I slowly walked out of the room, my eyes always on his face.


	4. Changes

Over the next three days I had one single purpose: to find out more about the Masens. As much as I could, actually.

The time I spent outside of the hospital now became tediously boring. I found it best when I kept myself busily occupied, so the house was nearly being renovated with the cleaning I was doing. It helped keep my mind off of things though. Whenever I tried to do more restful activities, I couldn't concentrate. Everything reminded me of them. Not to mention the time when I tried rereading _Sense and Sensibility_ and threw the book on the floor when the character Edward Ferrers was introduced…

My dreams still revolved around the Masens as well. I kept having the dream I'd had that first night, but it was interspersed with other images as well now. Sometimes I saw Edward dressed in a soldiers outfit, looking very dashing of course, and I would wave him goodbye as he boarded a train, off to join the warfare. As the train pulled out I would start sobbing in my dream, then I would wake to find the tears were real.

My subtlety at asking questions did not improve so I found myself asking Mrs. Masen any question that popped into my head. I was very grateful that she did not seem to see any hidden agenda behind this. In fact, it seemed nothing pleased her more than to talk about her family, and I was more than eager to comply. If anyone asked, I could always call my interrogations as therapeutic.

I asked a fair amount of questions about her family in general, but most were directed towards her son. I learned possibly as much as I could about him without having asked him directly.

His family had always lived in Chicago; he had been born there. He was their only child and so, not having many others to play with, he became rather independent. Most often he'd had tutors instead of attending school, and this too, most likely, taught him to rely upon himself and his own judgment; freeing him from the desire of his peer's influence.

This combination of factors lent him a curious ability to read people's characters. It seemed he could guess easily at the thoughts and intents behind every action of a person. Perhaps because he was not concerned with social aspirations and such- having grown up only desiring the approval of his family- he could see people for what they really were. This tended to make him selective with his friends. Many of the boys of his age and social position were mainly concerned with playing with their family's money: spending it on cards, girls, drink, and cigars. Mrs. Masen was very proud that her son had never been inclined to these things, eschewing them from the first. A gentleman from birth, she'd called him.

Not that he had never given her cause to worry at times. His self-reliance sometimes made him reckless when it came to certain things. He loved anything with speed: horseback riding, sailing, even simply running. This was one of the few times when he let his responsible nature slip. He had been greatly anticipating the motor car they had ordered a few weeks before. Mrs. Masen had been trying to find a way to prevent him from driving it; she thought they were sent from the devil. It nearly gave her a heart attack when she thought of him driving it.

Other than this love of speed, he had been a very sensible boy. He measured out carefully each decision he made, always considering the consequences of such an action, especially how it affected the family. He had a great love of his family. They were of the most importance to him in his life.

His mother had high hopes for him. He was very intelligent, showing a curiosity for the world at an early age. And he had many talented abilities in different areas of knowledge, but a special affinity to music. She had encouraged him in his musical abilities from the start. Their financial state ensured that he could pursue any interest he desired without worrying about money. Before the war had started, this seemed to be what he was most interested in: playing and composing music.

After the war broke out, his goals changed. He wanted nothing but to be a soldier. He'd said that it was mainly for the excitement- his love of speed would certainly draw him to the fighter airplanes they used, but Mrs. Masen didn't totally believe him. She suspected that he really had wanted to join because it had terrified her so- and he could never stand it when she was unhappy.

I learned a few things about each member of the family through these conversations- most of all, that they were a good family. I had always viewed upper crust society as snobbish and rude to others not in their social standing, which most anyone could tell you was true. It had surprised me from the first how kind she had been, polite- even to someone she thought was just a lowly nurse. I wasn't completely destitute as the daughter of a police chief, but I knew it would be nothing in comparison to her. Sometimes being middle class was viewed as worse than being poor because we gave ourselves airs for having money but not the connections or bloodlines to go with it. I could tell this was a different family. She never seemed to even consider it- the difference in our social positions. She trusted me and I felt an affection grow between us.

Before I left each day, I would always check in on her husband and son, as per her request. It seemed a bit strange, after hearing so many things about the boy and his exuberance for life, to see him lying in a bed so still. It was also very strange how familiar he seemed to me now, as if he had been a friend of the family for a long time. Though I was beginning to know more about him, I was still a complete stranger to him. He probably was not even aware of my existence.

This was the only dark spot during those days. Other than that, I found it exhilarating each time I came to the hospital. It was like putting a puzzle together and with each piece, I saw more clearly the beautiful picture.

After Grandfather came home, he threw a bit of a fuss each time I went off to work, but I think this was mostly for sport. He knew exactly why I needed to go there, and he seemed to approve. Whenever he complained, I threatened him with giving Father reign over the kitchen and he was silenced.

I told myself every day to go see them at the last few minutes of my shift because I knew if I gave myself more time, I would just spend it gawking at Edward. But I never listened to myself. I could ask endless questions to Mrs. Masen about her family, but as of late, she had actually been following the advice everyone gave her to get more rest, so she usually gave me thirty minutes of what always ended up as gawking time.

He was always asleep when I was there, but I would hear from Dr. Cullen that he was sometimes awake and alert. I occasionally heard him talk in his sleep, though he never spoke with the intensity he had that first night. These were just soft murmurings that I never understood completely. Sometimes, when I would lean over him to check his temperature, he would sigh and mumble something about being in the gardens. This made no sense to me, for after the night I had placed it on his pillow, I never saw the sachet of dried flowers again- most likely one of the nurses had taken it away mistakenly.

His condition had not changed much. It was almost comforting when I saw him to see his face free from sweat, to touch his face and not feel his skin burning with heat. But I was always reminded in the back of my head how this could be simply the calm before the storm.

His father's condition finally changed- for the worse. It was strange to see this role reversal; just a few days ago their conditions had been totally opposite. Now the father was often red with the heat of his fever, his face dripping with moisture, and around his mouth constantly were specks of dried blood, doubtless from his never-ceasing cough. Dr. Cullen was almost always at his side.

It was naïve of me to have thought that, even with their bodies racked with a horrible disease that was killing millions across the world, they would still somehow make it. Even with all of the pessimistic doubts I'd had before, I wasn't prepared for it when it really happened.

When I walked through the hospital front doors, it seemed a normal day. Everyone walked about in their usual orderly manner; there were no tears, no shrieks. I signed myself in and headed to the recovery ward where I knew Mrs. Masen would be waiting for me. I still stopped short a little every time I walked into the room to see Grandfather's bed empty. But then I remembered the happy reason why it was empty and I continued on.

Today, when I noticed Mrs. Masen's cot empty besides Grandfather's old one, I kept standing still. She had never been moved before; all of the doctors saw that she was doing well, beyond the occasional headache. Most likely, she had gotten out of bed to see her husband and son, but she had never done that since that first night and I could think of no reason for her to do that now.

That left one last option- the worst one- the one I always jumped to immediately. Mrs. Masen had died. It happened often enough- the disease was so unpredictable. Some people died within hours of contracting it, others were drawn out for weeks. They could look well on their way to recovery and then suddenly they would go to sleep one night and never again wake. My heart was clutched with dread. How could I have let this happen? Surely if a more experienced nurse had been caring for her, they would have noticed the warning signals. They would have been able to save her.

I stood there in shock for several moments, uncomprehending.

I felt a hand touch the back of my arm and looked behind me. The freckled face of Betsy Midgeons swam into view, drawn into a look of concerned surprise.

"Bella?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

I tried to swallow. "Mrs. Masen- do you know where she is?"

"Of course." She paused and her voice lowered. "Did no one tell you?"

"Tell me what?" This was not helping resolve my fears.

Betsy's eyes widened with seriousness and she spoke slowly. "Mr. Masen died last night. Dr. Cullen was working on him, trying to clear his lungs, but nothing was working. He wouldn't stop coughing." She shook her head. "Dr. Cullen was the one to tell Mrs. Masen when she awoke. Threw such a terrible fit, that one. They said you could hear it all through out the hospital. That was earlier this morning and, since then, her body's taken such a turn, they've put her in the emergency ward with her son!"

So my worst fears hadn't been totally off. I just had the victim wrong.

Mr. Masen- dead! This should have made sense to me; I should have been expecting this. From the moment I'd first seen him I would have expected him to pass away at any moment. Yet I was still shocked. I couldn't make sense of it. And Mrs. Masen- finally with her son but at the cost of her husband's life and her own health! I felt a crushing sorrow for her.

This was something I had never experienced before, something I could definitely not empathize with her about. The only death that had happened in our family during my lifetime had been my mother's and that had been 15 years ago when I was still a baby. Nor had I ever worked so closely with a patient that had died, being as I had always been kept from the worst parts of the hospital. This was my first ever. I would have no words of comfort for her, if ever I got out of this strange daze I now felt surround me.

As if to refute my thought, Betsy spoke immediately. "You should go to her now."

Panic swirled around me for a moment. How could she say that? The fact still remained that I had barely known this family for less than one week! If chance had not thrown us together in this way, we would have never known each other, never even thought to form any kind of connection between each other- unless I suddenly wanted to be their servant! Still, I knew how wrong I was to fill my head with all of these flimsy excuses. I knew just how much Mrs. Masen depended on me and how I had formed an attachment with her. I was still stubborn enough to look at Betsy like she was crazy- as she was.

In response, she cocked an eyebrow. "Bella, you've been with her ever since she came to the hospital. She needs you right now more than anyone else. Go!"

I had always thought of Betsy as a bit of a silly girl. All she ever talked about were actors and actresses, dresses and hats, and all of the other shallow things of the world. So where was this coolheaded determination coming from? I suppose I had underestimated her. And overestimated my bravery.

I felt sick. I was secretly hoping that a giant hole would magically appear in the ground and swallow me up. Then I would have a valid enough excuse not to go, because I saw then that none of my real ones would hold up. I was being a complete coward and extremely selfish. Mrs. Masen would hate me and I would loathe myself if I did not go.

I sighed deeply, closing my eyes for a second.

"You're right Betsy. I will go."

She smiled. "I thought you would."

She walked away to tend to some other patients. That was supposed to be my cue to leave, I supposed, but my feet still felt glued to the floor.

"Bella," Betsy called in a stern voice.

"Right." I forced my rigid stance to move.

I felt butterflies in my stomach, but these were not the happy, excited kind. These were sick, violent butterflies, battering against my insides. I just had no idea what I would _say_, what I should _do_. I was so disadvantaged as one of the few girls who had been brought up only by two men. As if that would not be bad enough, one of those men had happened to be my _father_, who could write an instructional book on how to get out of emotional situations. The strategies would mostly include looking frightened as you slowly back away to the next room. Grandfather wasn't much better; he just tried to tease his way out. I had no experience with this. I would probably only say or do something to make it worse.

It seemed to take much too short a time for my feet to reach the doorway of the emergency ward- I thought I had tried to walk as slowly as possible.

I walked through the doors with trepidation. What I saw there immediately erased all of my worries for a second.

A woman in a patient's gown stood over the bedside of Edward Masen, her whole frame shaking. I saw the bronze shade of her hair, exactly matching that of the boy in the bed, and knew that it was Mrs. Masen. I must have made some kind of sound, for she turned her head sharply to look at me. I could see immediately how much her condition had worsened: her eyes were bloodshot, their expression slightly crazed. Her face was flushed and she seemed about to collapse.

"Mrs. Masen! What are you doing?!" I strode over to her side. Still shaking, her hand was clutched around one of the wet rags and pressed to the face of her sleeping son.

"I thought he might need this. It is so terribly hot in here." Her voice sounded very weak.

I observed her trembling form; she must feel hot from her own fever.

"You must get back into your own bed, Mrs. Masen. Please," I pleaded.

"I can't- he needs me to…"

"I'll take care of that." My fingers closed over the cloth and my other hand gently broke her grip on it. I gestured to her cot silently until she moved toward it and placed the rag in the cold water, squeezing it out lightly. I placed it back on her son's cheek. I could feel his temperature as I pressed my hand to the other side of his face. Abstractly, I realized this was becoming my official position whenever I was in the room: both hands always connected to his handsome face. At least this time I had his mother's approval. His smooth skin did not feel hot in the least so he did not need the coolness of the rag, but I assumed that Mrs. Masen would object if I stopped. And I would never object to any chance at touching him.

I turned to look at her, keeping my hands on his face. She had- thankfully- followed my directions and was lying in bed. Her eyes were closed and she looked exhausted. She looked like she had aged so much in just one day: lines I had never noticed before seemed carved into her face, her complexion was decidedly sallow, and her hair was dull and limp as it lay across her face. She was breathing hard, as if standing had been exhausting. She was completely different to the last time I had seen her. How had this all happened in just twenty-four hours?

"You are such a comfort to me, Miss Swan." Her eyes were opened halfway and though she smiled, it was a tiny, heartbreaking smile because it was bathed in devastation. "What would I do without you?"

I felt ready to burst into tears. I couldn't meet her gaze; I looked down at the bed. "I'm sure you would do much better without me." My voice came out as a strangled whisper; I hope she heard it. "In fact, I think- your husband- well… it's probably all my fault!" I couldn't control my voice; I was too busy trying to hold back my tears- they got to the rim of my eyes, but no further. I still couldn't look up.

I saw it then, how much this _was_ my fault. Dr. Cullen had been so wrong, so totally wrong about me, but I would never blame him. He'd thought somehow that I had been healing people here, and it had seemed like that for awhile. Who knows why it had gone away temporarily, but now, my usual bad luck was finally resurfacing. At least Grandfather had been spared. From now on I would be a curse to all patients. Mr. Cullen had been the tragic first victim. He hadn't magically improved as Dr. Cullen had said he would- actually he had gotten worse since I started coming. It was my bad luck that had tipped the scales. Now, Edward and Mrs. Masen were headed that way. I should resign now, so the death toll might stop at just one.

"What ever do you mean, my dear?" Mrs. Masen's voice was so gentle; it forced me to finally look up at her.

Her face was etched in sadness, but her eyes had a slight warmth to them which I assumed was for my benefit. It did not comfort me, it only increased my guilt.

"I should have never been around your family," I cried out desperately. "You don't understand- I have the worst luck in the world: accidents and danger follow me everywhere. I must have brought it on your family- I'm so sorry."

I bit my lip and paused. I was probably sounding crazy to her. I would have to give her the more valid reasons now. "As if that wasn't enough- I'm a terrible nurse! I don't know anything about medicine and half of the time I'm _fainting_ all over the place… if a _real_ nurse had taken care of them, Mr. Masen might still…" I couldn't finish, there was too big of a lump in my throat.

Mrs. Masen studied me for a moment. The warmth still had not left her eyes. "Miss Swan, you can't really believe that. I knew the kind of person you are the first day I met you- how trustworthy you are, the love and care you show for others. I knew my son and husband needed that more than anything. We have plenty of skilled doctors and nurses here, but I wanted your particular kind of nursing. You did everything for them that you could- I will always be in gratitude to you for that." She looked down, studying her fingers. "And you helped me so much, of course. I surely would have been driven mad during that time if you had not been there with me."

She raised her head to the doorway, staring forward, her face ancient. "I see now that it was not meant for me and Mr. Masen to recover." Her mouth turned up slightly. "But I am so happy now to be with my son, before… To help him will be my only focus from now on." She looked at me again and her heartbroken smile widened. "Of course, I still expect you to visit us- as much as you can."

Her face had been so peaceful as she spoke. Mine was just the opposite. I could feel the horror pulling down on me as if it were an anchor on my face.

"Mrs. Masen!" I choked out the words. "You cannot mean that! What are you thinking? You must get better- at least for your son's sake!"

She smiled sadly again. "He'll be all right. He's a man already. For much too long now, he's been able to take care of himself. Mr. Masen though," her voice broke. "I could never leave him alone." She inhaled deeply. "No, Edward will be just fine. But we must get him well first."

I think I was shaking a little, but I wasn't really able to concentrate on stopping that. I couldn't believe what she was saying.

"Mrs. Masen…" I began, but stopped when I realized I didn't know what to say. How could I get through to her? I was shocked and saddened, but most of all angry. I felt a crazy urge to shake her. "How… how _dare_ you!" My voice was just below shouting. "Do you really think your son will get better if you die right after he recovers? Will you leave him without either of his parents? You'd just be giving him one more reason to join the war. Your sacrifice would mean nothing!"

She looked less serene now; her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. She considered my words for a moment. "No, I don't want…" she turned her head to look at her son and gasped. "Edward!"

I looked down sharply at the boy's face. A pair of green eyes, the exact copy of the ones I had just been glaring into, gazed steadily into my own. They stared curiously, as if they were studying me. His expression was not angry, but neither was it exactly friendly. I was caught up in his gaze for a moment, only registering my quickened heartbeat in the back of my head. Then I realized that my hands were still gently cradling his face.

"Oh!" I stuttered, dropping the cloth and ripping my hands away like I'd burned them on a stove. I stepped back a foot away from the cot. I felt myself blush furiously- it must have covered my entire body. Once again, a large, never-ending hole would be so useful.

"Edward," Mrs. Masen's voice sounded disapproving. "How long had you been listening?"

He stared at me for one second longer, and then turned to look at his mother. "Just now, Mother. All I heard was that you… didn't want something? What is it?"

His voice was completely innocent as he said this, matching perfectly with his angel's countenance. Yet… it was a little too innocent to me. As much as I hoped he hadn't been awake for awhile, undoubtedly puzzled as to why a silly girl's hands were glued to his face, I suspected he had heard more than he let on. But I had no desire to bring up that subject again- I would most likely actually start shaking Mrs. Masen in my fury and then she would never want me to come back, not to mention the lawsuit they could press. But I had no doubt, from what I had learned of him, that her son was angry with her as well. Hopefully, they would talk it over after I left, and he could knock some sense into her- but not so literally.

"Oh, I simply don't want Miss Swan here to trouble herself over taking care of you anymore. Now that I'm here, I'm more than capable of doing it myself," Mrs. Masen replied calmly.

Ah hah, so he had acquired his lying skills from his mother. Maybe they could teach me some of their tricks. I needed them desperately.

"Mother," he sounded as frustrated as I had been with her before. "You have nothing to concern yourself over. I am fine. Do you remember what Dr. Cullen said earlier? I am improving. I feel hardly ill at all right now."

"All the more reason to be more careful than ever." She looked down, quietly adjusting the sheets covering her lap. She looked up at me, and smiled. "And all the more reason to keep Miss Swan around. We'll need the extra care."

I still felt completely mortified by the compromising position I had found myself in just minutes earlier; now I also felt completely out of place since they were both awake. They would probably want as much time with each other as possible, and I was intruding on that. But I was immensely curious about the boy, now that he was awake. What all could I glean of him now that I had the main source to draw from?

Still, I felt like I should be doing something. I stepped to the side of Mrs. Masen's bed, reaching to the table beside it to retrieve the pitcher of water and some glasses. I poured two and gave one to each patient. I could only allow myself a quick glance at Edward's face when I gave him his, being _very_ careful not to touch him. From what I could see, he was still observing me with that detached curiosity he'd had before.

"Miss Swan here has been such a help to me, you know, Edward," Mrs. Masen said as she sipped her water. "To all of us really. She's been watching over you and…" her voice faltered for the slightest second, "your father… ever since we first arrived."

My cheeks flushed red. How much more evidence did he need that I was stalking him?

She continued on. "It was only after I begged her to do so, of course. She was the only one that listened to me." She smiled gently at me. "She's the only one I feel really cares for us- that I trust."

I was touched that she felt such emotion for me, but I cringed at her assessment of me. She was still completely deluded over my abilities.

"Mrs. Masen, I tried to explain it before." I shook my head slowly. "I'm a very unskilled nurse. I actually hate hospitals as much as you do; I would never choose to be a nurse myself. There is very little that I can actually do."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Edward's eyes seem to narrow in concentration as he looked at me. Had I said something wrong? Would he think me unfit to take care of his mother from now on?

"You saved my boy's life." Mrs. Masen said softly, her eyes staring into mine intently. Edward's head turned sharply to look at his mother as well. "That alone would be enough to make me eternally indebted to you. But you also have been so kind- to each of us. Most especially to me." One side of her mouth tugged up into a smile. "We do have a bit of money, of course, but- I don't know how we'll ever repay you."

The woman simply wouldn't understand how very little I had done for her and her family, and really, what a detrimental effect I had placed upon them. I patted her hand. "Just get better. That will be enough."

I started to walk away, careful to not look in her son's direction. Was I still blushing? Did he think I was a permanently red faced girl? A red faced girl who preyed upon unconscious young men in hospital beds?

I turned back to her, remembering my duties as a nurse. "I had better leave now, but is there anything I can get you? How are you feeling?" I walked back to her side, frowning slightly. I checked her temperature with the back of my hand. It was warmer than I expected. I took the wet rag from the bowl on the table and pressed it to her face.

"There. Is that better?"

She closed her eyes. Clearly the woman was not telling me enough about her ailments. At least, not with her son around.

She grasped my hand suddenly as I dabbed at her face. "You will see us tomorrow, won't you, dear?"

I sighed quietly, but smiled. "Don't I always?" I pressed a hand to her face again. It felt a little cooler. She had her eyes half-closed and lay deeply into her cot. She looked ready to fall asleep.

"I'll leave you now. Please,_ please_ get some sleep- and stay in bed." I dropped my voice to a whisper. "If your son needs some help, there are more than enough nurses to assist. I will see you tomorrow."

"The both of us," she amended.

I nodded, and turned to walk out. As I reached the door, her son called out.

"Miss Swan?"

I turned slowly, sure that my blush was returning. My heartbeat quickened.

During all of the conversation between his mother and I, I had felt his gaze upon me. But I had never thought it was the kind of stare you wanted from a boy. He was merely studying me- trying to figure out my character, I supposed. It should have been easy enough; I had two main traits: clumsy and embarrassed.

This time he stared at me differently, with a kind of fervor. Like when I'd seen him the first time.

"Thank you." His voice was rough with the intensity of his gratitude.

I nodded, and, barely able to tear my gaze from his, quietly closed the door.

Note: Some people have asked, so I thought I would say that I have a tentative plan to upload stories once a week between Fridays and Sundays. If you're reading Distractions as well, it will most likely be up before Sunday. But, I will say I'm in the midst of midterms, group projects, and starting a new job right now, so I can't guarantee anything. Thanks for reading!


	5. Promise

Chapter 5: Promise

A week passed. The days that I spent at the hospital seemed to fly by. The days I wasn't there seemed to drag on, like they would never end.

I think Father was becoming a little suspicious. He still really did not understand why I was staying on at the hospital now that Grandfather was home. He told me that I should enjoy the summer months while I could before school started. He wished I would go visit some of my friends from school (which were not many and more like acquaintances than friends).

I'm sure he wondered at my agitated manner whenever I was in the house. I probably looked like I was sleep walking, always busy about the house doing chores and yet with a distant look in my eyes, like I wasn't fully there.

But how could I help it? My two reasons for staying at the hospital both happened to be located in the worst section of the hospital.

Edward's condition remained the same- still no symptoms had come back. Dr. Cullen said that they would wait another day or two and then they might send him to the recovery ward. He instructed Edward to get lots of rest. I let myself hope.

Mrs. Masen was more unpredictable. Some days her skin was as cool as her son's, completely normal; the next day her fever and headaches were back. She only ever let the strain of it show when her son was asleep.

We never talked about Mrs. Masen's "plan" again. I don't know if her son ever did speak with her about it either, and I still got too crazily angry at her to bring it up again. It seemed that her health correlated with her son's, and, as it appeared he was getting better, I imagined she would too. I told myself that her plan had been hastily made in the midst of grief over her husband's death. With her son healthy and alive, how could any mother abandon him?

On the days that I could come, I spent all of my time with them. Sometimes they were both asleep when I came, but I didn't mind. Usually Mrs. Masen would wake up in time to talk a little before I left. Only a very few times was Edward awake while I was there. He didn't say much, just observed his mother and I as we talked.

Once again I wondered at his gaze. I didn't allow myself to think that he stared because he found me interesting. It was much more likely that his puzzled frowns while he watched were the result of thinking me very odd- surely this was what most people thought of me when they observed me. But there was something about it that made me feel like he was a scientist and I a strange new creature to be analyzed.

That whole week I felt like I was walking a tight wire or holding my breath. Things were looking positive, but until I could be sure, I couldn't set aside my worries.

Grandfather seemed to notice my strain.

"How are things at the hospital, my dear?" he asked lightly one morning as I made breakfast.

I turned from the stove to look at him. He sat at the table, his fingers interlaced under his chin, watching me expectantly. It was a casual enough question, but there was something in his tone which made me think he wanted to know something more.

I turned back to the stove to flip the eggs I was cooking. "Fine," I answered casually.

He waited a moment before continuing on. "I was just wondering the other day… whatever happened to that family- what was their name… Masen, wasn't it?"

I kept my eyes on the eggs as I pushed them back and forth around the pan. I tried to not talk a lot about the hospital with my father because I knew if I told him, he would probably demand that I leave. Neither did I want Grandfather to really know because he might react the same way. Men were much too protective of girls, thinking that they fainted over the most trivial things, whereas_ I_ only fainted over a very non-trivial thing like the sight of blood. They also were under the impression that Mrs. Masen was in the recovery ward, and thought that I would still be working there mainly.

But Grandfather was as adept as anyone at knowing when I was trying to keep the truth from someone. Maybe if I just generalized. "Mrs. Masen and her son are doing much better, it seems. Her son might even be put into the recovery ward in a few days." Never mind that Mrs. Masen would stay in the emergency ward, where she had been for a week now.

Grandfather watched me carefully as I scraped the eggs from the pan onto a plate.

"Oh, that's good to hear." He paused for a moment, then asked in a more serious voice, "And how about Mr. Masen?"

I spent a minute getting some silverware out of a drawer, keeping my head down, deliberating what to say. But there was no way I could hide the truth, and it seemed almost like an affront to Mr. Masen if I tried to lie about it.

"He died a week ago," I replied quietly.

"Ah…" Grandfather murmured in a sober tone.

It was silent for a few moments as I brought the rest of the breakfast things to set on the table.

"Bella," Grandfather spoke slowly. "What will you do if Mrs. Masen and her son… don't make it?"

I raised my eyes from the stack of plates I had set down to look at him. He was watching me closely, his expression gentle but serious. I looked down again as I continued to set out the plates.

"How can you say that, Grandfather?" I reproached him, aggravated. "I just told you they were improving."

"I know, I know, my dear. And I am very glad for it. But I think you might want to prepare yourself, for that possibility." He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I was one of the very few lucky ones. The majority have not had such mercy."

I continued to set out the silverware. "Dr. Cullen works with them constantly. If anyone can save them, he can." I said shortly.

"Dr. Cullen is a very fine doctor, Bella." He paused again and his face suddenly looked very old. "But even doctors can't work against fate."

I glared at him, unable to speak for a moment. He was bringing up all of my worst fears, just when I had allowed myself to be optimistic. "Stop saying that! Why are you even thinking about those things? You don't know that they're _meant_ to die! You don't know anything about it!"

He took my hand in his, patting it reassuringly. "You're right, I know it, my dear. I don't know anything about their fate. I just see how… how attached you're getting to that family. It feels like you focus all of your attention on the hospital now. I hope they get better, that all turns out well, but… in the case that it doesn't, I'm worried about how much it might affect you. Already…" -he stopped and looked at me pointedly- "well, I've heard you scream at night, dear."

I stared at him, shocked. My dreams had become more desperate, more horrific lately. I often dreamed that I was in the emergency ward. I would be surprised to find Mrs. Masen's and Edward's cots empty. As I walked out of the room to see if anyone knew what room they had been changed to, I stepped into a puddle of blood. As I looked in horror, I saw that it elongated in a trail from the doorway of the emergency ward, going down the hallway of the hospital. I would follow it, and it always seemed to take many hours, as if the hallway stretched on endlessly. And with each step I took, I felt my heart would collapse from the fear that clutched it. Eventually it came to a door, and as I looked up at the sign over the doorway, I saw that the path of blood had led me to a morgue. That was when I started to scream.

But I didn't know that anyone else had heard it; I thought it had only been in my dreams.

"Has Father said anything about it?" I asked quickly.

"He's heard it often enough, and he's worried of course."

No wonder he'd been trying to persuade me to leave the hospital so much more.

But these were just dreams; I had told myself repeatedly that they did not mean anything. It was just a result of my own fear. And I wouldn't think about what I would do if they died. I couldn't let myself.

"I can't think about that, Grandfather. If…" I swallowed hard. "I'll deal with whatever happens," I said in a very final tone.

He studied me for a moment. "Alright, my dear. Alright."

We heard the cracking of the floor upstairs and soon Father came down. Grandfather said nothing about our conversation and nothing appeared amiss. The meal was eaten quietly.

Finally Father stood up to leave.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back tonight," he said as he walked to the door. "There have been some reports of suspicious activity around Mark's St. We think it might be that Reid gang. We'll be watching there for awhile tonight."

"Be careful, Father," I reminded him.

"_I_ will," he replied gruffly, as if I was the last person who should be saying that. He bid us good day and walked out the door.

I kept myself busy with my chores for the rest of the day, as I usually did, but even more so today because I didn't want Grandfather to talk to me anymore about the Masens. I was irritated with him, but I probably shouldn't have been. I knew he had only been looking out for me. And in the back of my mind, I did realize the possibility of the Masen's making it was likely evenly divided now. Also, it reminded me of all of the times I had thought such things when I first met them- how pessimistic I had been then. But I was just now allowing myself to hope; why was he bringing down my optimism now that I finally had some?

I dressed quickly into my nurse's uniform.

"I'll see you tonight, Grandfather," I called from the door.

"Take care, dear," he said softly, watching me again.

I shot him a quick aggravated look before stepping out the doors.

I couldn't reach the hospital quick enough now. I felt agitated once again and I hated that because it was only from my conversation with Grandfather. Edward could be going to the recovery ward in a few days and Mrs. Masen would surely follow. I had nothing to worry about.

I opened the doors of the hospital with a sigh of relief.

That relief quickly dissipated when I saw Nurse Thornton waiting at the front desk. Somehow I had avoided any confrontations with her this past week. Neither had I done anything to provoke her disapproval of me- no more than usual anyway.

So I really had no idea why she would be standing there at the front desk, obviously waiting for me. I walked over to sign myself in. I might as well get it over with.

"Good day, Miss Swan," Nurse Thornton said formally.

"Good day," I replied, just as politely.

She waited for me to pick up the pen and start thumbing through the pages of the list. "You are still attending to Mrs. Masen, aren't you?" she asked.

I glanced at her quickly before returning my gaze to the paper. Her face was expressionless, but that made her question all the more confusing. She already knew that I was still visiting Mrs. Masen, of course, so I had no idea why she was asking me this.

"Yes," I answered as I wrote my name on the paper.

"How are Mrs. Masen and her son doing?"

Again, questions that she already knew the answer to, most likely. Nurse Thornton did not attend Mrs. Masen or Edward very much, but she seen them before and of course she must have talked with Dr. Cullen before.

"They are well- at least that's what Dr. Cullen's prognosis is. He expects Edward to be in the recovery room in a few days." I finished with the sign in sheet and set it back in place on the front desk. I raised my eyes to her face finally.

"And how have _you_ been doing in the emergency ward?" she asked pointedly, her polite tone slipping a little.

Ah, this must be why she was talking to me at all. She was most likely looking for a reason for me to be kicked out of the emergency ward. She must have expected something to have happened sooner, and because I had lasted for more than a week there, she assumed that I was keeping it hidden.

"I've had no accidents so far," I answered tartly.

"Really?" The shock in her voice was insulting. Her eyes narrowed at me. "No fainting spells, no dizziness, nothing at all like that?"

"No."

She didn't look like she knew what to make of that. "Well, I don't have to tell you how- surprised I am by this, Miss Swan. But I am glad for it." She glanced at me more closely. "Perhaps I underestimated you."

"Thank you," I replied in a more generous tone.

"Perhaps we can use you now with some more of the emergency ward patients or with some of the operations. Mr. Arbor's leg has been bleeding badly lately and we could use some extra hands with the amputation."

Her quick eyes took in the nauseated look that speedily came over my face. It was as if she had known the magic word to make me queasy. I looked down and adjusted the folds of my skirt, taking a deep breath.

When I looked up again, my voice came out clear and hard. "I think Dr. Cullen would like for me to stay with the Masens until they recover. We'll see what happens after that. Thank you, ma'am."

She looked at me with a bit of a patronizing look. "Yes. When the Masens recover…" she echoed and walked away.

I was very stunned by this whole conversation. I supposed Mrs. Masen was merely testing to see if I had gotten any stronger of a stomach with hospital matters. I somehow had the idea that even if I had grown immune to the sight and smell of blood, she still would not like me. Nurse Thornton seemed like the kind of person who put a lot of importance on first impressions- and from the very beginning I had given her the poorest impression.

I didn't mind so much. I was used to being ignored, but in the case of Nurse Thornton, I would much rather be ignored than be disliked.

And once again, there was something in her tone when she talked of the Masens which reminded me of what my Grandfather had said. Did everyone know something that I didn't? Why was everyone else doubtful now that I was finally hopeful?

I shook my head at myself. Who cared what everyone else was worrying about? I had been there the most with them. I knew that they were recovering. And Dr. Cullen thought so too.

I walked to the emergency ward, hoping to see Mrs. Masen awake. I saw immediately her form lying inert on the cot, her head resting deeply into her pillow. I walked over to lightly touch her forehead. It was warmer than I wanted.

I was about to get a wet rag, when a voice broke the silence.

"Miss Swan?"

I looked up to see Edward awake. I had only casually glanced in his direction when I entered the room; he had appeared to be asleep as well. When had he awakened?

He had raised himself on one elbow. "How is she?" he asked, looking at his mother.

I turned to the bowl and squeezed the water out of the rag floating in it. I felt calmer when I wasn't looking at his face.

"Just a little warmer than I would like," I replied, placing the cool towel on her forehead. She sighed and seemed to breathe more deeply.

I deliberated for a second on what to do next. It was silly, but I did not feel entirely comfortable being here with him awake. I wanted to learn more about him, but anytime I looked at him, I seemed to want to blush- whether from my embarrassing memories of our first encounter or just because I got a little lightheaded when I looked at him for too long. It was much easier to ask questions to his mother, who only thought I was a timid nurse with a lot of patience.

I took the cowardly route. "She should be fine now, though. I'd better go look after some of the other patients." I didn't know exactly whom I would see as it seemed these two were my only patients now.

I started to walk away.

"Actually," he called, halting my steps. "I wondered if I could talk with you for a moment. I have something to ask of you."

I turned around slowly. The surprise must have been clear on my face.

He looked at me with a guarded expression. "I'm sorry, if you have other duties- it will only take a moment."

He seemed to be waiting for me to come closer. I walked over to a few feet away from his bed, hesitantly.

He leaned over to pull something out of the drawer besides the cot; it looked like it took him some effort. Enclosing the object in his hand, he reached over to take one of my wrists- my breath stopped- and slowly released whatever it was into my palm. He let go of my wrist, and laid his hands at his side, clenched into fists.

"It was one of her favorites," he muttered through his teeth, "but- it will do her better if…" he trailed off, sounding too pained to speak.

I opened my hand, completely baffled by this turn of events to do anything else. Lying delicately on my palm was a bracelet, with a gold chain of very fine make and several large crystals hanging from it. I touched one with my finger, watching it sparkle in the sunlight. It was cut with many facets into the shape of a heart.

I lifted my eyes to his again, my eyebrows raised. I had no idea what his meaning was in giving me this.

"They're real," he informed me sedately, gesturing to the bracelet with his chin, "all of them. They should fetch you a good price."

I gasped and looked down at the magnificent crystals on the bracelet. Wait- not crystals. _Diamonds_? I couldn't even comprehend how much it cost. But what did he want me to _do_ with them?

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice shaky.

He studied me shrewdly for a second. "My mother informed me that your father is a chief of police. Is that right?"

"Yes," I answered hesitantly.

He nodded quickly to himself. "And he would know the best places for trade..." It sounded like he was talking more to himself than to me.

I was still completely lost.

"I'm sorry, but… what is it exactly that you want me to do?" I tried to keep my voice polite, instead of exasperated.

He looked into my eyes steadily. My heart started to beat a little faster. "I need your help, Miss Swan. I despise asking for this assistance from anyone, but" -his face turned mockingly bitter- "as I am, at the moment, incapacitated- I am left to rely on others."

He turned his face to gaze at his mother for a moment. "I can't let her…" his eyes blazed in agony. "She won't die- not while I can help it!"

He slid his eyes to mine again. "I need someone to sell that." He glanced down at the bracelet, a trace of pain in his features. "Sell it anyway you can for what its worth. Your father has connections; he must surely know the appropriate places."

I had too many questions; it was hard to pick one to begin with. I decided on one. A fairly important one. "Why do you want to sell it?"

"I need medicine, some kind of cure for her. There must be _something_!" His face looked slightly fanatical as he said this. "With the proper amount of money- maybe…" Once again, he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than me.

I felt my mouth hanging open. Embarrassed, I closed it with a snap. I tried to swallow; it didn't work.

I was still completely bewildered over this whole turn of events. But, now that I understood what he actually wanted me to do, I could not comprehend why he could not ask this of someone else.

"Wouldn't Dr. Cullen…" I began.

"I asked him already" he replied a little shortly. "He said there was no exact cure yet." He swallowed hard. "But there _must_ be something that can help!"

"What do you want me to do with the money?" I asked, still perplexed about this plan.

"I'll give it to Dr. Cullen- or that Nurse Thornton- I'll bribe them. Anything to get some medicine sent. I don't care if it's new or untried. Whatever. Whatever works." He sounded like he was on the point of babbling.

There was one thing I couldn't understand at all. "Why me?" I asked quietly.

A small V formed between his eyebrows and he looked down at his lap. "I knew from what my mother told me that she trusts you. Anyone else and I'm sure I'd never see that bracelet again." His eyes turned speculatively to me again. "But… I'm assuming you won't do that?"

I felt a blush creep onto my cheeks, but I raised my chin a little higher. If he was asking me to do this, why would he even question? "What do _you_ think?" I asked a little curtly.

The V deepened. "I can't decide. I can't understand you." He spoke begrudgingly, as if he didn't want to admit it. "You said yourself how you don't like being here- that you would never choose this profession for yourself." His eyes narrowed at me slightly. "So why are you here then?"

My blush increased. As if I would tell him my reason. For you? For your family? Now I wondered at why I was staying myself.

I looked away. "I don't know," I answered lamely.

It was silent for a moment. I decided to consider more on what he was asking me to do.

I couldn't understand this plan. If Dr. Cullen had already told him there was no medicine, what would be the point of bribing him? It was true he had not known Dr. Cullen for a long time; he might not know yet his honest and upright character. But from what his mother had said of him reading people so clearly, he would have been able to see that immediately.

It could only be then that he was so intent on finding a cure for his mother- it made him not really able to think clearly. Made him desperate for any chance.

I wondered if he had seen through me yet, what he determined of my character. I still so often felt him scrutinize me with that distant curiosity.

But I suppose I had an answer to that now. He had been trying to find someone to carry out this job for him, and he had been trying to decipher if I was actually as trustworthy as his mother had told him. Apparently he'd found my integrity to be sufficient.

I felt slightly dejected by this. I became conscious of the fact that I had been hoping for something more in his stare. I wanted to shake my head at myself.

I glanced at him again and realized for the first time since entering into the room how flushed his skin was. I must have thought it was from the agitation, but I could see now that he also had beads of sweat dotted on his face. His form was shaking slightly. His eyes stared back at me, blood-shot red.

The fever was back.

He misread the horror on my face. "I'm so sorry, to ask you to do this." I only now heard the weakness in his voice; it croaked with exhaustion. "And I know I've been terribly rude, please forgive me. I know it may not work, but just promise me-" He stopped and tried to lean forward, starting to cough hoarsely. It took me a few seconds to notice the blood spewing onto his hand as he held it in a fist in front of his mouth.

_**No!**_

I stood rooted to the ground for half a second and then rushed to his side, placing my hand on his back to help support him. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and placed it in front of his mouth to catch the blood.

I knew I could not do this alone.

"Help! Someone please help me!" I cried out.

A nurse ducked her head into the room and, upon seeing the situation, quickly turned her face to the hallway.

"Someone! Get Dr. Cullen- quickly!" she shrieked. Then she came over to the other side of the cot to help.

Edward's body was still heaving with his coughing. He dragged in each breath raggedly, chokingly. I closed my eyes so that I wouldn't see his blood drenching my handkerchief, but I felt the sticky warmth through the cloth. The room swam before me, but I held on. There was too much danger for fainting, even for myself. For the moment at least.

Dr. Cullen rushed into the room. He replaced our positions at Edward's side. I stepped away unsteadily. The blood was everywhere. I turned away from the sight. It was too hideous.

But then I almost wished I hadn't. Because my gaze locked with Mrs. Masen's terrorized one. Tears streamed down her face and she looked like she was choking as well. When had she awakened?

I couldn't even try to formulate the question. The room darkened and I felt myself fall.


	6. Departure

Author's note: I'm going to try really, really hard to get the next chapter up tomorrow. I was going to wait to post these chapters at the same time, but I know some of you have been waiting a really long time. Thanks for your patience. :)

Chapter 6: Departure

When I woke up, I found that I had been placed on a cot in another room. Nurse Thornton had come into the emergency room and, upon seeing me fainted away on the floor, ordered some doctors to take me into another room nearby until I reawakened. Betsy was kind enough to stay with me, and when Nurse Thornton ordered me to go home after I'd regained consciousness, she offered to come with me. I gratefully took it, as I still felt unstable.

We walked slowly, with my hand on her arm. I hated it, but I really did need her support, whether from the physical stress of fainting or the emotional turmoil I now felt. I was trying to calm myself, to somehow beat down the terror that seized me now. Suddenly, I remembered what I had been holding in my hand in the emergency ward. My hands were obviously empty now.

Before I could begin to hyperventilate, I noticed the heavy weight in my pocket. My fingers dipped into it, feeling the cool, hard stones of the bracelet. I breathed a sigh of relief. But how ever did it get in there?

Betsy looked down to see what I was clutching and took in the confused look on my face. "Oh, you were holding that when you fainted. I took it before anyone else noticed and slipped it into your pocket once they'd put you down on the bed. I didn't want you to get into trouble, but you know the hospital rules about wearing jewelry, Bella," she chided, but then her voice grew astonished. "And, my goodness, wherever did you get something like that? You can't have _that_ much money!"

"Oh," I mumbled, trying to think of something that might make sense. "It was my mother's… really old..."

She still eyed me dubiously, but did not ask anymore questions about the bracelet. I wasn't so much a fool to think that anyone, Betsy included, should know that I had been obligated by a patient to pawn this incredible bracelet in order to bribe the doctors at the hospital for new medicine. No, that likely was not something to be heralded about.

My head was still swimming in fear. Edward had reached the final stage. How much time did he have? Days? Hours? It was so unpredictable, there was no way to tell.

Perhaps that should give me hope, instead of dread. Because the disease was so unpredictable, who was to say that he would absolutely die now? What if this wasn't the end, his death sentence? What if there was a chance that he could still survive it?

"Betsy," I asked slowly, "have you ever known anyone that survived after… the final stage?"

She looked at me quickly, apparently surprised at this turn of conversation. Her eyes took in my expression, and then she shook her head, pityingly.

I swallowed hard, feeling faint again. Perhaps now my problem was feeling too much optimism, and not enough pessimism.

Betsy looked straight ahead as we walked. "That's the sad part about working in a hospital, Bella. There's not much we can do about it."

Her words were spoken gently, meant to comfort me, or at least ease the guilt that she must have sensed in me. But they had the opposite effect. My jaw tightened and I probably hurt Betsy as my fingers dug into her arm. Oh yes, there was something to be done. Even if there was just the slightest chance of it working, I was going to do it.

We reached my house by that time and I thanked Betsy for helping me home. She looked slightly wary, leaving me at my home. I wondered what it was in my expression that made her cautious. But I ignored it and thanked her again as I stepped through the doorway.

Grandfather was sitting in the drawing room, reading newspapers when I walked into the house. He looked at me and the clock in surprise. I realized that I had come home much earlier than I usually did.

"I felt a little sick, at the hospital," I said quickly before he could ask. "I asked to come home a little early."

He frowned in concern. "Is everything alright, dear?"

"Yes, it's nothing. I just… felt a little off." This was very much true. The world did not seem on center right now.

I noticed that the house was very quiet now. "Has Father returned yet?"

Grandfather shook his head, rustling his papers as he turned his attention back to them. "No, not yet. Remember, he said they were going to watch out for the Reid gang again. He wasn't sure when he'd come back."

I clutched at the bracelet in my pocket inadvertently. But there was nothing that I could do at the moment, was there? I had no idea where to go or what to do about it really. I would have to wait until Father came home and request his help.

I went to the kitchen to start dinner. I usually made dinner at the same time that I made lunch, so that Grandfather and Father could eat while I was at the hospital. But I desperately needed something to do right now, so I made a whole new dinner.

Father was not there by the time Grandfather and I sat down to eat it. We ate in silence. I couldn't tell if Grandfather sensed my agitation, I tried to cover it, but at the same time, I was too worried to care if he saw it. He asked me nothing and I was content with that.

Grandfather turned in for bed early, while I was still cleaning the kitchen. That was good because I did not want to have to pretend to go upstairs to my room to sleep as I had no intention of sleeping. Not until Father came home that is.

When I was done cleaning anything that could possibly be cleaned, I sat down on the sofa in the drawing room. I crossed my arms over my chest and my foot tapped up and down on the floor involuntarily. I had kept one small candle on so as not to alert Grandfather to my awakened state. I could see through the windows that the sky was dark now, I could see only a few other lights from neighboring homes. How much longer would it be?

The hours dragged on and still Father had not returned. This did nothing to resolve my anxiety as I then had three people to worry if they would not make it through the night.

Sometime past two in the morning, I could stand it no longer. I held the bracelet tightly in one pocket of my dress as if this would somehow strengthen my resolve. I made it to the doorknob twice, then paused to talk myself out of it, before finally walking out the door into the dark night.

We did not live in a very bad part of town, but then I did not imagine any place to feel very safe in the middle of the night. And I did happen to have particularly bad luck.

But all of this didn't matter. Because if I didn't get money for new medicine as soon as possible… then there would be no point for any of this.

I still knew how crazy this plan was, but I felt as Edward must feel as well, that doing anything was better than nothing.

I wouldn't give up now.

I walked to the end of the block, my only light from the moon. The streetlights must have been snuffed out hours ago. I didn't know in the slightest where to go or what to do. The air was thick with heat, yet I shivered as I looked down the empty roads. Even when I did get to the city, I had no idea what to look for. And I wondered what might find me as I continued to search.

I took a deep breath. This was not about me, this was about the Masens.

I walked down the street and gave a slight shriek when a cat shot out of the shadows to cross the road. That would be just the thing to happen to me, wouldn't it? Get robbed on the way to selling an enormously expensive bracelet for a family on their deathbeds. Wouldn't that be wonderful to explain to Edward tomorrow? Wouldn't that increase his estimation of my character?

Maybe I wouldn't have the chance to anyway.

I exhaled shortly in exasperation of myself. I was back to dooming them again. Of course, after what Betsy said, my pessimism might be finally right on target.

The hyperventilation started again. I had never had this feeling before- like my lungs couldn't get enough air, like there was something huge blocking my airways. I wished it was actually physical so I could somehow wash it down.

I stopped short in my tracks and looked around me. I roughly realized that I was now headed down a street I did not recognize. It seemed suddenly very dark around me. I was on the verge of panic now, every creak of a tree or rustle of wind sounding like the approach of an imaginary attacker. I walked quickly to the end of the street and gladly found that this connecting road was familiar. I was about a half mile from my house now. And still no exact idea what I was doing.

This was probably ludicrous. What could I have even done had I somehow found a store to trade it? Likely, it was not open at this hour, of course, unless it was located in a section of town where I definitely should not go. As if anyone would give a fair price to a fifteen year old girl, anyway? As if I had any idea what the right price should be?

I hadn't been thinking at all when I stepped out, only feeling that I couldn't wait anymore. Finally, sense was returning to me and I saw at once that this was entirely impossible right now.

I walked home, quicker than I had been walking around earlier. Now I knew exactly where I wanted to go and how to get there. The earlier confusion had numbed me to the frightening atmosphere as well, and I now was absolutely terrified at being all by myself in the middle of the night.

I reached home at long last and felt such relief when I slipped my key through the door. I looked at the clock and was shocked to see that I had been walking around for a little less than two hours. It had felt like just thirty minutes to me.

But now I was back in the silent house and while I would certainly not venture outside again, it was a place that could be equally as terrifying. Not because of the atmosphere, but because I had nothing to distract me from my worries now.

I still couldn't imagine it. Somehow I had assumed that with all of my pessimism, it would help me prepare for the worst, but that hadn't happened at all. They had almost comforted me because I knew they were just my own imaginings. Now as I stared at the reality of their death, it didn't make sense to me. How was it possible that I might never see Mrs. Masen again? Or Edward…

I was slightly surprised at how much pain that thought caused me. I probably shouldn't have been surprised, being as all my life seemed to revolve around the boy and his family now. But it wasn't as if I was in love with him…

My cheeks flushed in embarrassment at myself for the thought. As if you could fall in love with someone that you had one single conversation with. And really, I had only learned about him through his mother, and how many mothers tended to stretch the truth about their sons? Perhaps he wasn't the angel he appeared to be. No, I could not be in love with him.

I wasn't, however, deluding myself into thinking that I did not care for him at all. I liked him much too much. Or perhaps, a better way of describing it was that I was much too interested in him. I very much wanted to see if his mother's claims of him were real.

Even still, even if all of those things were true, it was utterly ridiculous to hope that he could somehow reciprocate those feelings. Mrs. Masen might like me now, but her feelings would probably change if she thought I had designs on her son.

And most importantly, though it was easy for me and probably any girl to see him as interesting, there was absolutely nothing that _he_ could find interesting about _me_. A daughter of a policeman. Spends most of her time reading books when not having chores to do. Did not own a fancy piece of clothing beyond a dress for church when we went at Christmas. Absolutely no talent in music or art, as I'd had hardly any time to devote to such endeavors. Oh yes, and completely average-looking.

Yes, I must be quite the temptation to him.

As I had learned today, all of those curious stares on his part had merely been to see that I could be trusted for this job. And he'd only admitted that he wasn't entirely sure of my character. He'd stared because he found me strange, incomprehensible. Well, he probably wasn't the first. He had found me interesting in a way, but of course, this was not the way one wished to be found interesting. Interestingly bizarre, he would probably say.

Then again, it may not matter what he thought of me, by the end of this wretched night. He might not think anything at all ever again.

I laid my head in my hands. I was finally feeling the effects of staying up all night. They sky had lightened through the windows; the sun would be rising soon. And Father had still not returned.

I was on the couch in the drawing room. I would be here when he finally returned home. I could hear the creaking of Grandfather waking up in his bedroom. He would not be pleased if he knew I had stayed up all night long.

I scrambled to the kitchen to start breakfast. Grandfather came out after a few minutes, greeting me, then sat down at the table to wait. I kept my head down so that he wouldn't see the red in my eyes or the tiredness in my face.

"How did you sleep, dear?" he asked casually as I set down a plate of bacon and porridge for him.

Well, I probably wouldn't be able to hide it from him completely, but he didn't have to know everything. "Not very well. I was worried about Father, of course." Ah, see? I did not really have to lie. Father's absence had definitely been part of my worries last night.

"Yes, he's still not home yet, is he?"

I shook my head at him as I sat down to eat as well.

We had another quiet meal together. I felt that Grandfather knew there was something wrong, but had sense enough to not ask me about it.

After breakfast, Grandfather invited me to take a morning walk with him, but I declined. When he was gone, I cleaned up quickly and went back to sit on the couch. My head was starting to feel disconnected to my body, and I was not thinking quite coherently. I decided to lie down on the couch as I waited, just to rest my head a bit.

It had felt like only five minutes later when someone was shaking my shoulder. "Bella. Bella, dear. Are you going to go to work?" Grandfather's voice came gently.

I opened my eyes to see him leaning over me. I noticed immediately the low sunlight coming from the west of the windows. His words registered in my mind slowly. It was already time for work? Oh, how had I let myself fall asleep for so long?

I shot up in my seat. "Where's Father? Has he returned finally?"

"Yes, he came home around noon. He's fine; they caught some of the gang members in the early morning. He's sleeping now."

I nodded and ran for my room. I dressed in my nurses uniform quickly. Then I wrote a note for Father explaining just the bare minimum for him to understand what I needed. I wrapped the bracelet in a small pouch and handed both to Grandfather, asking him to give it to Father once he'd awakened. He looked puzzled, but nodded his assent and I fled through the doors.

I can't believe I had allowed myself to sleep through all of this. But then, if I had been awake when Father had come home, likely I wouldn't have made him go out with me to find some pawn shop. He must have been exhausted.

I was desperate to get to the hospital now. I tried to block any pessimistic thoughts that tried to tell me that Edward had not made it through the night. I couldn't live through _not_ knowing anymore. It felt worse than anything.

I walked through the front door with a sigh of relief and quickly signed myself in at the desk. My cheeks flushed red as I remembered the state I had left the hospital in yesterday. As far as I could tell, no one else remembered it, at least. I headed straight for the emergency ward.

Just as I was about to walk into the doorway, Mrs. Masen's voice brought me up short.

"Save him!"

I shrank back into the shadows of the hallway. I was used to the gentle, feminine voice she usually spoke with. This was different; it was a fierce command of desperation.

"I'll do everything in my power." I was surprised to hear Dr. Cullen's voice come from the room. What on earth was going on?

"You must," she continued in that authoritative voice. "You must do everything in _your_ power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward."

_What_ was Mrs. Masen thinking? What did she mean- what others cannot do? Hadn't I promised her all along that Dr. Cullen would do everything he could for her family? I racked my brain, trying to think of what could have prompted this response in her. Slowly, I remembered some things I had said, which were completely meant to be light-hearted jokes, meant to assuage her fears, about Dr. Cullen having some kind of special ability beyond normal capacities. Is that what had triggered this reaction? How could anyone have taken me seriously?

I stood there in shock for a few more moments when Dr. Cullen stepped in front of the door, blindingly fast. I must have been dazed, everything looked strange to me. But the expression on Dr. Cullen's face brought me to reality.

He looked absolutely bewildered, terrified even. I would have thought that he would consider Mrs. Masen's request as part of her symptoms. Why did he look so horrified?

"Dr. Cullen?" I asked hesitantly, keeping my voice quiet so that Mrs. Masen wouldn't be able to hear.

His eyes registered my presence, as if he had not immediately recognized my being here before. "Did you hear…?"

I nodded solemnly. There was no point in hiding it. "What will you do?"

He turned away, his eyes wide and unseeing it appeared. "I don't know yet."

He took a step forward, but I couldn't let him leave just yet. I had one more question to ask. "Dr. Cullen- how is she? I mean-" I had to swallow before continuing. "will she… make it?"

He looked into my eyes intently, and shook his head slowly. "I don't know that either…"

I felt my face draw into horror. How could this have happened in so short a time? And, worst of all- "Edward," I gasped, speaking mostly to myself. "He'll have no one. He'll be left all alone."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Cullen's eyes snap at me fixedly. I couldn't tell what I had said that made him look at me that way, so intently, for he turned quickly and walked down the hallway before I could think or ask anything.

I stepped into the room. It was very quiet. Their eyes were closed, but I checked immediately to see that their chests still rose slightly with their breathing. Mrs. Masen's face in particular, I noticed, did not look peaceful.

I stood for a minute in between their cots and simply watched them. Was there anything I could do for them now? The one task that I had been asked to accomplish, the one hope there was left for them, I had already failed. I hoped Father would be able to get the money, but really, how much time would there be left for it all to work out anyway?

I continued to watch them, switching between faces. I was slightly afraid of touching them, as if even a gentle stroke of my hand would tip the scales and their breath would never come again. I became accustomed to the extreme quiet in the room, and therefore gasped in fright when I heard Edward's sudden intake of breath. I looked sharply at his face.

His eyes opened slowly, immediately seeking his mother's cot beside him. When he spoke, his voice was just a hoarse whisper, as if he barely had strength to speak. "Is she alive?"

"Yes," I answered quickly.

His head raised a little, his eyes straining to see her more closely, to examine her. "How is she?"

I bit my lip. This was harder to answer. "I don't know," I whispered.

His brow furrowed and his eyes tightened, but his head sunk down once more against the pillow. It seemed he did not have strength enough to hold it up anymore. His eyes closed once again.

I would have been afraid, except that I watched his breath come in and out, with a rattle and with effort. And though I knew it would make things so much worse, I had to tell him the truth.

"I'm so sorry…" My voice came out nearly inaudibly with the shame I felt. "I didn't get the money…"

His eyes opened for one small second to look at my expression, than closed again. There was no anger in their expression, or surprise for that matter. Only exhaustion.

He took a long, deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "Doesn't matter anymore," he finally muttered.

His mouth opened slightly again, as if he were going to say something more, but it slowly closed again.

He looked to have fallen asleep. His breath came still- shallowly- but still it came.

What was _wrong_ with this family? Why were they so ready to _die_ for each other? So intent on giving up?

Well I wouldn't give up.

It had been maybe forty minutes since I'd come into the room, when a shadow blocked the light coming through the door.

"What are you doing in here, you foolish girl!" Nurse Thornton's voice came furiously from the doorway. Her bulky figure stalked forward towards me and a meaty hand grabbed my elbow, pulling me from the Masens' bedsides.

I resisted her pull, dragging my feet on the ground. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm attending to the Masens as always."

Her eyes narrowed at me. "Not anymore you don't. Not after your little _accident_ yesterday. Do you think we need our nurses _fainting_ away for our most urgent patients? Just feel lucky that you have a job at all. You can thank Dr. Cullen for that."

She yanked my arm again, more forcefully. And like her personality, Nurse Thornton's strength was no shrinking violet. I tried to jerk my arm free and cement my feet into the floor. She continued to haul me to the doorway.

"No- I won't go! I have to stay with them!" I cried desperately. "You can't make me go!"

She halted in her steps and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, can't I? Girl, if you rather, I can terminate your presence here right now, and you'll never step into this hospital again. Would you prefer that?"

I looked at her with hard eyes, knowing that Nurse Thornton was not the type for exaggeration. Whatever she said was meant with absolute seriousness. I wanted to do anything to stay with the Masens now, but what good would it do for them if I were to be fired? I had no choice left.

With my jaw set and furious eyes, I let her walk me forward begrudgingly.

She took me back to my old recovery room. The patients had changed and I hardly knew any of them. I did not know if this was because my old patients had recovered and returned home or, the opposite had happened, and they had died. At this moment, there seemed to be no surety in life.

I stood there for a few moments, too angry to speak. Nurse Thornton turned from one of the patients to glare at me. "Is this what you do all day, girl? I can fire you for that as well."

I gave her a withering look and stalked forward to one of the patient's bedsides.

I talked with the patients, asking them what they needed and attending to their requests. But my mind was racing as I worried over the Masens. I couldn't forget their faces, both so pale and weak. Mrs. Masen's in particular disturbed me greatly; it had looked so distressed, even in sleep. And Edward's frightened me even more, because his expression had been one of defeat. I felt on edge and watched the agonizingly slow progress of the clock, each second seeming to take a minute, each minute seeming to take an hour. And with each small passage of time, the thoughts screamed at me, 'Is this minute their last?'

Nurse Thornton watched me with near cat-like glee. She seemed to enjoy that I was finally back in the place I belonged, if there was any place for me in a hospital. Thankfully, I barely noticed her with the chaos of my thoughts.

Finally, finally, the time came for my shift to end. I rushed out the door without a glance in Nurse Thornton's direction, though I distantly heard her call out. I nearly ran to the emergency ward, though it felt like I couldn't get there fast enough.

When I stepped through the door, it felt like I had been transformed into the nightmare I had been having recently. The cots were empty. I stared at them for a few seconds, not wanting to comprehend the meaning behind this. Only the sound of footsteps behind me brought me around.

I spun around to stop whoever it was in the hall. I had seen her before, but did not know her name. "Excuse me, do you know where the patients in this room have been moved to?"

She stared at me, surprised that I had stopped her. She glanced at the room behind us to see what might help her understand what I was talking about.

"Oh, the Masens." Comprehension dawned on her and I started to breathe again. She looked in shock at me now. "You don't know?"

I could only look at her, too afraid of what she would say.

She stepped closer to me and looked around her for a second, checking to make sure there was no one around us. When she spoke, it was in a hushed whisper. "I don't know how you don't know this. I didn't think there was _anyone_ that wasn't talking about it, but…" -she paused to look at me seriously- "Mrs. Masen died an hour ago. Her body was taken to the morgue, and when they'd returned, her son, Edward, had disappeared! Most of the doctors think that someone had taken his body to the morgue as well; they said he didn't have more than a few hours left. But they haven't been able to find it!"

I did not feel anything. I was completely numb, like I had been turned into a machine. I could only think of one thing. "Where is Dr. Cullen?" My voice was dead, completely devoid of any emotion.

I dimly registered the look of shock on her face again. She looked at me almost pityingly. "He's disappeared as well. No one can find him anywhere."


	7. Resurrection

Resurrection

I had always thought that my life had been very normal, a very unassuming existence. A commonplace childhood, with nothing out of the ordinary in my upbringing except that my mother had died when I was young. Father's presence had ensured that nothing exciting would happen.

Despite my very normal circumstances, I often felt abnormal myself. Not in the sense that I was above average in any respect, like I was somehow special. Of course, that could not be the case. It was more that I felt I did not fit in with the norm, that I did not belong there. Father pointed this out often with regard to my reactions- that I did not conform with the normal, expected reactions to normal situations.

This was made all the more apparent in the months following the death of the Masens.

A normal person, after experiencing the first death of a friend in their life, would have probably avoided any place or thing that reminded them of such memories. Of course, this would have been immensely doubled had they known that it was their fault, their own ignorant mistakes and folly which had caused the death of their friend. Surely such a crushing guilt would cause anyone to flee away from anything that brought up such painful reminders.

But I was not a normal person. And though going through such memories horrified and pained me everyday, I would much rather feel that pain than dishonor their memory by forgetting them.

So I stayed at the hospital.

This was a source of great frustration to Father and even Grandfather. They had seen the change that had taken place in me since the night of the Masens' death. Though they, Father in particular, had asked me what was wrong, I could never bring myself to speak about it. I was sure that Grandfather at least assumed what had happened, and after a few days, Father stopped asking me about it.

It was probably also normal for a person to grieve for a few days and weeks as well. But when the weeks had turned into months and nothing had changed in me, they knew there was something to worry about. I'd had to reduce my hours at the hospital quite a bit of course once school started, and Father became very insistent that I leave then. But when I sufficiently showed that I could still get high marks in school and balance work and my duties at home, he'd had no argument.

This was not such a sacrifice for me. I was not really giving up much time that could have been spent with friends or hobbies or interests. I was grateful for the increase in amount of work. Work meant that my mind had something to do, something to occupy it.

I was vaguely surprised at myself for not being able to leave the hospital. But it terrified me to think that if I stopped going, I would forget. And also, much, much worse, there would be no hope.

There had been no huge uproar when the Masens had died. It was not the most shocking turn of events for others. That night alone, thirty-eight other people had died within the city of Chicago. But, because they were well-known and a family of money, the disappearance of the body of the Masen's son had been written about in the paper. There was a casual inquiry by the police, another squadron than Father's, but they did not put a great amount of effort into it. Most everyone concluded that it was simply a blunder- someone had brought the body to the morgue without consulting others first. The body had been mistaken for another's somehow, wrongly identified. It was not a rare occurrence, especially in times like these when people died so rapidly. And many of the doctors and nurses at the hospital had testified that he had been so close to death at the time that it did not matter so much. He would have been in the morgue that night eventually; it had just been a little premature.

It was official when they declared the case to be closed, with a consensus that the boy had died and the body misidentified at the morgue. Months after the grave of Mrs. Masen had been interred into the Oakwoods cemetery another had been added next to it. This coffin was empty and the inscription on the tombstone over it read Edward Anthony Masen. I did not attend either funeral.

I knew there was no hope. Everyone without a doubt understood that they had died. It was the only thing that made sense. Yet, I sensed a part of me, which I could not even admit fully to myself, that held the slightest sliver of hope left for anything otherwise.

I clung to everything physical that reminded me of that time, though it brought so much pain. I tried not to remember the actual memories, but I held to any kind of physical manifestation that they had been here. The world seemed determined to undermine this desire. Many of the nurses and doctors in the hospital had left since that time; the first being Dr. Cullen of course, who had never returned. The Spanish Influenza as well had, after one more resurgence in the fall, finally disappeared altogether. I could not miss the disease that had killed them of course, but again, it felt like one more thing to steal their memory by its absence.

I likely would not have been able to stay on at the hospital if Nurse Thornton had not left after the last outbreak. After the disappearance of Dr. Cullen, she had become especially insistent on my own departure. But I had worked hard to become competent enough to accomplish the basics of nursing. I suppose with the numbness I so often felt these months, I could somewhat overcome my aversion to blood and needles. Still, I tried to avoid those situations as much as I could and spent most of my time in the recovery ward. And it should have been more enjoyable; the hospital had lost much of its desperation now that the world was back to normal. For everyone else, that is.

I never thought I'd see the day when I would be sad to see Nurse Thornton's face, but it came. I had little ties to the Masens in so many people, so many inane things that whenever that thing was taken away, one more connection was cut, ripped away from me.

Dr. Cullen never stepped again into the hospital. That had been the excuse I had given myself and everyone else in the beginning- I was waiting for his return. I waited, day after day, and then week after week. Most people assumed that it had been too much for him. He had spent so much time working to help the family. The days before their deaths, many people remembered the deep, dark circles under Dr. Cullen's eyes, signaling the restless nights he had spent, most likely worrying over them. He would have snapped under such stress, it was only to be expected. And like all of the other normal people, he knew better than to come back. He had moved on.

It was a little over ten months now since that day. It was April and it was cold. And Father was being more insistent than usual that I leave the hospital. I would be graduating at the end of the school year. I had applied to the University of Chicago, which was just a thirty minute walk away from our home and Father felt that I needed to devote all of my time for preparations.

I knew he was right. I was able to perform my duties sufficiently, but I knew I could not always be there at the hospital. In the back of my mind I knew I was waiting for something there, though what exactly it was I would not even allow myself to understand. Sense and reason were trying to worm their way into my resistant mind. I sighed a little as I made my way to the hospital, this being one of the few days that I came. It meant that I would have to stay up late to finish an essay for school, but I was used to not getting much sleep, and it was never dependant on the amount of work I had from school. Rather, it was unusual when I did get a restful night's sleep; I could count the amount of times that had occurred during the last ten months on my hands. It would probably be a welcome distraction as I would have something to do while I was awake, instead of lying there, waiting for sleep to come as my thoughts involuntarily ran through what were only nor painful memories for me.

I opened the familiar doors of the hospital and passed by the nurses and doctors which had come since that time. It was strange to be one of the few that had worked there the longest. When I reached the recovery ward, there was no one lying there because they had recovered from some horrible disease sweeping across the country. There were a few who had come in for operations, and some who'd had minor fevers, and even some mothers who'd given birth. There was no doubt anymore that any of them wouldn't make a full recovery and return as good as new to their families and their happy lives.

I went straight to the patients I usually attended to. Mr. Frank was being a little more ornery than usual. He did not think that men belonged in hospitals. His body had told him otherwise when his appendix had burst. I checked the stitches on his stomach; there was a minimal amount of liquid oozing out, but thankfully not blood, so I cleaned the area with a cloth dabbed with alcohol. Mr. Frank's response educated me on some expletives I had never heard before.

I moved onto Ms. Payson, who had been there for over a week. She was in her sixties, yet very stout and hearty. She'd had a high fever when she'd been brought to the hospital. It might have killed anyone else at her age, but she had withstood it. She trapped me for awhile by explaining all of the things she was missing while not at home. The first and foremost was her cat Beulah.

Next, I checked on Mrs. Kinger, who had just had her first son. She'd had a hard delivery and was rather frail herself, but could not keep from gloating about her son. She talked of him constantly and did nothing but smile and sing happily to herself when not reveling in her son.

Today she was distressed. She was sure that her son had been born at five o'clock on the dot, but she recalled the doctor telling the nurse that it was five minutes after the hour when he'd been born. This disturbed her greatly and she asked me if I could check the medical record for her. I did not see how this could possibly matter, but I had no qualms about performing duties that did not involve blood, so I acquiesced.

Walking down the hallway was not as easy as I would have liked. I realized as I passed by the emergency ward with a sharp stab of pain in my heart that it reminded me of another time when I had been asked to look after something by a patient. I unconsciously bit my lip until it became a physical pain. That kind of pain I could at least deal with more easily.

I stepped into the room where the medical records were kept, not knowing where to start since I had never looked for this particular item before.

Before I could even begin to search, I noticed the other person occupying the room.

His back was to me, looking at some papers. But I recognized the pure white skin of his hands, the bright blond of his hair even from behind.

"Dr. Cullen?" I stuttered out, my voice just a bare whisper with my shock.

He turned around and for one brief second I saw my own shock echoed on his face. There was also a hint of... panic, maybe? But his face abruptly turned into an expression of genial surprise.

"Miss Swan! I never expected to see you still here." He smiled. "There are so few of the old nurses and doctors around anymore, I see. And I thought if anyone would leave, you'd be one of the first. Don't tell me Nurse Thornton finally got you in the operation room?"

I could barely concentrate on his words. It was too good to see him. I had always noticed his incredible beauty before, but now it was otherworldly. He was from another world, a world I had tried to cling to but always seemed to be slipping away from me. But now he was actually here.

I stumbled forward and would have fallen except that he caught my arm. I clutched at his arm with my other hand, gripping it tightly. I likely would have hurt anyone else with how tightly I seized his arm, but I noticed dimly that Dr. Cullen's arm was very strong and hard. He must have been just outside for, even through the cloth of his jacket, I could feel that his skin was rather chilled.

"Dr. Cullen," I stammered again. It was the only thing I could think to say. My mind was still reeling with joy.

"Are you alright, Miss Swan?" He asked, still polite but a little concerned. He may have made a slight effort to move away from me, but my hand was still clamped to his arm.

I forced myself finally to form a coherent sentence, before he could ask if this was a sanitarium rather than a hospital and if I was a patient rather than a nurse. "It's... it's so good to see you."

"Yes." He smiled again but there was a touch of remorse in it. "I'm so sorry I haven't returned since... well for such a long time. I..." -he paused and then sighed deeply- "I have no excuse for my behavior."

These were the questions that I had wanted to ask for so long. It made it slightly hard to fully form my thoughts. "Where... what-"

He somehow made sense of what I was asking. His face turned suddenly remote. "I left the city. It was very cowardly- you are free to think that of me- for having left the way I did." He struggled for a moment for words, his face troubled, then abruptly smoothed. "But, I found another hospital to work at in my new residence. I very much enjoy it there."

He moved back more forcefully this time and I let go of his arm finally. He turned away for a moment to fold the papers he had left on the counter and returned them into their proper places, too quick for me to see what they were.

"In fact, that's why I was here today," he continued on smoothly. "One of my patients there had reminded me of a case we'd had here before and I wanted to see what measures had been taken in their care. I think I might have found something that will help them- at least I hope it will." He smiled again at me, his eyes warm. "But it was very good to see you again, Miss Swan. I'm very pleased that you've stayed on here at the hospital. Hopefully, we can see each other again if I have the chance to stop by."

He started to walk away, and I felt like my throat was closing over, my lungs shriveling up. I grabbed his arm again, not caring what his reaction would be.

"Dr. Cullen, that night..." I started. I felt the pain swirling inside my chest. This was the first time I had talked about it out loud. "Do you- what happened... that night?"

He looked down at me, his expression looking a little torn. Then he looked away. "There were many mistakes made that night, Miss Swan. It's best if we don't think of it." He paused, and when he spoke again, it was just a murmur, as if he were speaking more to himself. "And yet, sometimes, good things can come from mistakes."

I stared at him. What good thing could have come from that horrible night?

He placed a cold hand on mine to remove it gently from his jacket, grasping it once quickly in his hands in a sign of friendship. "I promise I will visit again sometime, Miss Swan. But I must leave you now; I have another appointment, I'm afraid." He smiled once more, apologetically, and then quickly walked out of the room. I couldn't move for a moment as I was still in shock. When I came to my senses, I ran out of the door and through the hall, but he had gone. Some of the nurses and doctors stared at me, but I did not care. I stood for a few minutes staring after him.

One of the nurses finally tapped my arm. "Bella? Are you alright, dear? Mrs. Kinger has been asking for you for ages."

"Oh." I looked at the nurse with slightly bewildered eyes. I suddenly remembered why I had been in the record room. I remembered that there were other things beyond Dr. Cullen's sudden appearance. "Right. I'll go see her now." My voice was as unfeeling as ever, no one might notice the difference, but I did. I knew that it was no longer sadness that made me numb, but shock.

I returned to the recovery ward, forgetting that I was supposed to have checked Mrs. Kinger's son's birth record. I lied quickly, telling her that it was indeed the time she had said. She was comforted.

I stayed there for the rest of my shift, my mind racing the entire time. As soon as my time was over I headed down the hall. I ducked quickly back into the records room, checking to make sure no one noticed me. It was night now and there were no candles in the room to guide me. But I remembered where Dr. Cullen had been standing and the general location of the files he had placed on the shelves. I headed over there and knelt on the ground to see the files. I thought he might have placed them on the top shelf.

I thumbed through the files, straining my eyes in the dark to look at the names. There were none that I remembered Dr. Cullen working with directly, but then he had been at the hospital earlier than I had. I moved to the lower shelf and started looking through the files there. Halfway through, the file I picked up fell from my hand.

The folder was for the Masens.

When I regained my senses, I flipped the folder open, searching through the file. This was all information that he had already known- why would he need to review it? The only thing new was some statements from the police and the morgue, recording the decision about Edward's disappearance. But how could that matter?

_What had he been doing?_

I sat for an undeterminable amount of time, reading over the file and trying to make sense of it. Trying to see what Dr. Cullen could possibly want with it. The chime of the clock in the hallway finally brought me around, and I realized that I had stayed much, much longer than I was supposed to.

I stashed the file away in its place, and quietly snuck out of the room. There were hardly any nurses walking around now. They did not need many for the night shift.

I signed myself out at the time that I was supposed to have left, then grabbed my coat from the closet and walked out of the door. I usually walked home with a group of other nurses, but obviously they had left without me. I would have to walk home alone tonight.

The wintry air outside whipped around me as soon as I stepped outside of the door, greatly helping me to waken from my slightly dazed state. Everything was still rather dream-like to me. Finally dream-like instead of like a nightmare.

Dr. Cullen had been _here_. He had actually stepped through the hospital doors once more. And he had been looking through the Masens' medical records? _Why?_ He had to have been lying earlier- if he was treating some other patient in another hospital, why would he want to see the Masens' case for comparison? Surely he would have remembered all that they had done for them, and more importantly, known that nothing had worked. What on earth would he need to know from their file?

And the way he had acted was somehow... suspicious. He had been so casual, so friendly, just like old times, and yet I couldn't forget that flash of panic in his face when he'd first seen me. I was one of the few that would recognize him at all of course, but why would that matter so much? Had he been doing something illegal? _What had he been doing?_

I wasn't paying much attention to where I was heading. I barely registered the light snow falling from the dark sky, swirling around me in cold drafts. I walked faster than usual down the streets, my mood making my gate swift. I hardly noticed the bustling crowd around me. My thoughts were completely focused on what had happened.

I was entirely confused, nervous, and somehow... elated. Because this was one of the most exciting things that had happened in so long. And, just by his appearance alone, Dr. Cullen was one of those inextricable ties to the Masen family. One of the foremost actually. At least he had promised to return sometime. Maybe then I could get more answers.

My life had seemed so... empty after their deaths. I had been changed. Most might call it a growing experience, some sort of rite of passage, but I couldn't think of it that way. I still felt such pain and heartbreak and, more than anything, an incredible guilt when I thought of them.

And, a very small part of me- the small part that held the hope I was not allowed to admit to myself- was bothering me. It whispered that there was something more to this, something that went beyond merely checking medical records for another patient.

I had turned down some alley without thinking much about it. I noticed that the crowds were gone; I was quite by myself. The darkness of the night, made so much stronger by the black alley, brought me down from my excitement.

Where was I? Father was sure to be furious when I got home.

I was so wrapped up in this momentous evening that I hadn't realized the precarious situation I had placed myself in. Sense was returning finally and suddenly it felt like a million eyes watched me from the lurking shadows.

"What are you doing?" I muttered to myself, shaking my head slowly. I turned around to retrace my steps. There was a dim street lamp near the entrance of the alleyway. I headed towards it.

I was almost to the light when something pulled at my arm sharply. My head whipped around behind me for a second to stare into a grimy, blackened face. There were lines and creases in it, caked in dirt, and the mouth was stretched into a leering grin.

"Come here, sweet..." his voice rasped; a sudden gust of wind brought the stale, alcohol-drenched scent of his breath to me.

I did not have time to try to scream or run or hit him. In the next second, he was pulled away from me by some dark figure. I could hardly see anything as the newcomer had pulled him into the dark alley once again. The second man was much taller than the first, and stronger too, as my would-be attacker appeared to struggle futilely against the tall man. The shorter figure finally slumped to the floor, looking unconscious. Or perhaps worse.

I did not know if I owed the tall man my thanks yet. Could he only have saved me so that he could have me for himself?

I deliberated where I stood. The tall man stood there, his back to me, looking down at the crumpled figure.

Then the dark figure turned slowly towards me. Should I thank him? Should I run away?

He raised his head to look at me and I gasped, all thoughts of running away disappeared. In the pale moonlight, his skin was ivory white, almost to an unbelievable degree. This was made all the more apparent in contrast to his hair, which the night had painted into an inky black. His features as well were different- sharpened, perfected, almost ethereal. And his eyes were completely opposite, going from the vivid green I remembered to a deep burgundy red.

Even with all of these changes, and though some of them seemed entirely impossible, I still knew exactly who my savior was. If I had ever thought that he had appeared as an angel before, it was never more so than now. I could no longer feel my heart beat; it must have stopped from his beauty. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"It's you," I whispered. "Edward."

The angel's bright red eyes glowed at me as he stepped closer.


	8. Transformation

**Transformation**

Edward Masen

Ten months earlier

I had never quite thought that, when I did finally die, I would go to hell. Not that I considered myself to be a perfect person, but I had always tried to keep away from any major sins.

But the pain I was currently entrenched in surely could not be allowed in heaven; unless heaven was a very different place to what I had been taught about. So it had to be hell then.

There was, however, no doubt that I was dead.

This seemed natural. My body had been raging with the influenza for weeks. I did not remember much of that time; most often I had been in some kind of delirium, not really aware of my surroundings. And then, when the blood had started flowing from my mouth, well, that had been a pretty good indicator that my time was up.

I was not usually the type to give up; most especially I did not want to give up for my mother's sake. But things change when you are hours from death and you very much know it.

All in all though, death was not how I always imagined it to be.

First of all, there was no singular moment when my soul had left my body- when I actually _died_. Or at least I was not aware of it. The last thing I could remember was being alert in the hospital before the fever took over again, but I must have been unconscious for quite awhile after that. It was hard to tell what was fever-induced illusion and what was real, or perhaps, what was the afterlife. I did seem to remember a hard wind blowing suddenly, like the sensation of flying, and if that were the case, that had to have happened outside of the hospital.

Who knew one flew down to hell?

The first memory after that had been the start of the pain. I had become fairly accustomed to pain over the last few weeks- there really is nothing quite like the feel of all of your blood spewing from your lungs.

Or so I had thought. This new pain made my time in the hospital seem like a pleasant dream. If I didn't know with utter certainty that I was already dead, I would be begging for it now.

It started with what felt like razor sharp knives along my chest, arms and throat,

creating huge gashes in my flesh. My eyes had flown open at the pain, but I could see nothing. Wherever I was, it was pitch black. Another indicator that I would not be seeing St. Peter anytime soon, I supposed.

Which reminded me- why was I not getting at least some kind of trial? Wasn't that what I had always been taught in church- that first comes the judgment and then the consequence? Was I really so bad that they simply knew in advance to send me straight to hell?

I couldn't actually recall any sins I had committed. Well, perhaps I had told a fair amount of lies on occasion- but usually only for the good of others. Did that really merit an eternity of painful burning?

But then, of course, I found it hard to remember anything at this time. The pain had spread from my torso to every portion of my body, till even the tips of my fingers and toes felt like they had been torched to ashes. That's how they should be anyway, but I was blisteringly aware that my body was still somehow completely intact and that there was actually no part of me that was not in all-consuming pain. All of these things rather took the lot of my attention.

I could just barely recall the faces of my mother and father. It galled me that I had not been able to save them from death, especially my mother. But, at least I could be assured that they were not here in hell with me.

This image and thought comforted me slightly- if there _was_ any way to be comforted whilst one's body was being burned to dust. I could not concentrate on much else beyond that and the pain.

Interestingly though, at times an unbidden image flashed through my mind- a pair of chocolate brown eyes. I knew that they were familiar, that I had seen them somewhere, but at the time I could not remember the face to which they belonged, much less the name of the owner. It was almost a little frustrating, especially as it was unconsciously done.

It was all very confusing- perhaps that was the real torture of hell. Everything was dark around me, yet I could so very clearly feel a fire blaze every cell of my body. There were the expected screams of torture that one usually associates with the underworld, but I was not entirely sure that they did not come from my own throat.

And most confusing and unexpected of all, I continually heard someone _apologizing_. Why exactly was the devil apologizing for torturing me?

It seemed endless, this dark hole of hell in which I was situated. But eventually the darkness lightened, bit by bit. I could see that I was in a type of room, which begged another burning question:

Why were there beige satin sofas in hell?

And then I saw him, the man who must have been apologizing the entire time. But he could not be the devil. There was an innate goodness coming from this man. I realized after a few- well, I really could not determine whether it was seconds, minutes, hours or days, but after an _amount of time_, I could remember that I knew him. It was the doctor who had worked on my family in the hospital. Cullen, I believe his name was.

No, he could certainly not be the devil; he looked much more to be the embodiment of God.

But if he was here, had I really died after all? It did not seem likely that the doctor could have died the same night that I did.

I was dead however, so perhaps this was a figment of my imagination. Was I imagining the doctor who had not been able to save me and my family apologizing for his mistakes as a way for retribution? I hadn't thought I blamed him for our deaths… not too much anyway.

Interesting the things they allowed you in hell. You'll be tortured beyond the brink of comprehensibility, but you get the chance for anyone who has ever wronged you to make amends.

It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying. The few times that I opened my eyes, as they were usually tightly shut in agony, I could see his mouth moving and heard the words as a soft murmuring, but it was as if my mind could not make sense of it. It was first and foremost enwrapped in pain, which was rather distracting, to say the least, and then, my mind would occasionally falter at words he used like 'creature' and 'blood'. What on earth was he talking about?

The lights dimmed once again and I was encased in blackness.

Another problem which made me almost think that perhaps I wasn't dead after all was that my heart was still beating. True, it was beating more rapidly than it ever had while I was alive, but there could be no mistaking that it was indeed beating. Of course each throb of my heart was incredibly painful, so that could be the only reason as to why my heart was still pumping at all. It was merely another medium of torture.

I hoped I was dead. My mother and father were, so there was really no point in living after that. Suddenly it all made sense. Ah, that was how I had earned my way into hell- I hadn't been able to save my family from death. That was quite understandable.

Though I agreed with the punishment, I had to say, it wasn't for lack of trying. I could remember trying any means necessary to do _something_ for them while in the hospital, even if they wouldn't work. And they hadn't and so I deserved to be here.

Yet, this lighting and darkening of the room made me wonder. Was I in some kind of interim period- purgatory, as they called it? Perhaps they hadn't reached a decision yet on the welfare of my soul. Or was this a test? If I withstood the pain would I earn a better place in the afterlife?

It continued like that for an amount of time that I had no way to measure. The fire in my veins burned on, regardless of any other thing. The light and dark went off and on, that was the only way to try to account for the passing of time.

After the third time that I was plunged in darkness, the pain- incredibly- started to dissipate. I could no longer feel it in my hands or feet. This bewildered me more than if the pain had continued on.

It had, of course, felt like an eternity that my body had been ravaged by searing flames, and yet I had the sense that it had been too short to really be an eternity.

Really, the details of the afterlife needed some greater clarification for those who had not passed through it yet. Perhaps I could be allowed to haunt some priest and update him on the new information.

After all, if I had earned my way into hell, shouldn't that constitute that I remain tortured for the rest of eternity? Was I getting a second chance after all? Were they giving me a short rest before a new torture started?

The latter seemed much more plausible as my heartbeat increased rapidly and the scorching heat seemed to be drawing itself into my chest.

The man- Dr. Cullen- seemed to notice it too, though how I had no idea as he didn't have any of his medical instruments on him. Then again, my heart was so loud with its laborious beating that it surely could not be missed by anyone. He moved closer to me.

_Just a little longer._ I clearly heard him say it, but I would swear that his lips never moved. Hell was such an odd place.

A shocking image flashed into my mind then. I saw the room I was in, but not from the perspective I was accustomed to seeing. It came from further back, about where the doctor would be standing, though I did not see him in the picture at all. Most disturbing of all, though, was the person lying in the bed where I should be. It could not be me though. The copper-toned hair was the same, I had to admit, but that was where the similarities ended. His skin was bright white, paler than the moon. The features on his face were different, like the carving of a statue of Michelangelo, and yet there was something almost like me in them. But its eyes- the eyes were a terrible blood red. That _thing_ could not be me.

I would have liked to ponder more horrifyingly over this, but the heat in my body was centering deeper in my chest. The pain had left my legs and arms now, they felt amazingly cool and comfortable. But I could now feel a change in the pain in my throat. At first it had burned just the same as every other part of my body, but now, in addition to the burning sensation, there was a _thirst_. Like every molecule of moisture had evaporated and my throat was suddenly as barren and dry as the Sahara Desert.

Somehow, the beat of my heart increased, as well as the heat surrounding it. I was fairly certain that it would exactly match the temperature of the sun.

There was an unbroken howl of anguish filling the room. Only after some time did I realize that it was mine.

The heat was only in my heart now and my heart was beating faster- faster than should be possible. My body, which had been writhing in agony all this time, now held still in a straight, tense line.

Then finally, finally, my heart stuttered before giving out at last.

There was utter silence in the room. The screams had stopped. My breath had stopped. My heart had stopped.

So it was official now. I was truly dead.

But, when I opened my eyes, I found that I was still not in heaven. I was in that same room. I was very sure that it was exactly the same place and yet I knew that I was seeing it as I had never seen it before.

I had never noticed, for example, the tiny, microscopic cracks in the ceiling. I could see them in detail, just the same as if my eye were pressed against them, though I remained in the bed I lie in, twelve feet and four inches away. Very strange that I could calculate the distance to the ceiling, as well. Actually, from my peripheral vision, I could calculate that the room I was situated in was eight hundred and forty-five square feet. Very odd.

It was light again now- I could see the individual strands of sunlight beaming through the windows, not to mention every particle of dust and spore that danced in its light.

My mind seemed to be making a catalogue of nearly everything in the room, noting things I would have never noticed before. And, just the opposite of when I had been burning torturously before, I had a remarkable sense of time now. I catalogued and interpreted my surroundings all within two-thirds of a single second.

I could also, astonishingly, hear things outside of the room. We were in a country area I assumed from the sounds I heard. There were no sounds of the city or people in general, but rather the wind whipping lightly through a cluster of oak trees, and the calls of nine or so birds in the flora. There was a creek thirty-two feet away from the room where an animal, a doe I guessed by the light tread of her hooves, was taking a drink.

It was marvelous, and all so distracting that I had no thought to question how or why it was all happening. I was quite content to continue taking in all of these things until I heard the creak of the floorboards as someone placed their right foot forward cautiously.

_It looks like everything is alright. I didn't do anything wrong._ A rush of distinct relief accompanied the image that flashed into my mind once again. It was the same as I'd had before- the one of the room and that- creature- from a different vantage point than my own.

I raised my head a little to see Dr. Cullen standing there. I had almost forgotten of his existence at all, so captivated was I by all of these new sights and sounds.

How could he still be here? His presence reminded me of all of my earlier frustrations and utter confusion. The emotion flooded me and my body reacted before I could even think.

My feet pressed into the soft bedding with enough force to propel the rest of my body upright on the ground, standing before the doctor. Within the space of one-sixteenth of a second my hands were wrapped around his throat and I had shoved him against the wall. It was rougher than I had anticipated and there was now a clear outline of the doctor's frame embedded in the wall.

A very small portion of my brain told me that this was a bit of an overreaction, but the rest of my body was not listening. It was like an actual physical need- I had to know one thing before anything else.

"_What is happening to me?_" Was that my voice? It came out low and frightening, even to my ears, and yet somehow… musical, smooth and supple. It did not sound like any other sound I'd ever heard.

Amid this, I realized that, though I was crushing his throat with the same force as a boulder crashing from a sheer cliff, the doctor was not choking. He wasn't breathing at all actually, that was for sure as I felt no air passing through his lungs. Yet, he did not look to be bothered by that fact.

He stared at me calmly, but there was anguish coming from him as well. I wasn't sure how I could know that as his face was still as stone, yet I could feel a distinct sorrow emanating from the man.

_Well, not as well as I'd hoped, I suppose. Why? _Why_ had I allowed this to happen?_ Once again, I heard the words clearly, yet his mouth had remained closed. _He seems to be normal though. It worked after all. _A wave of relief fell over me once again, not from my own emotions, and I could see the slight relaxing of his features.

"I promise I will tell you everything," this time his mouth did actually move and his voice was just as calm as his expression, "but I would prefer it if you released my throat first."

He barely sounded strained from the chokehold I had around his neck. His voice was so calming and soothing that it abated my sense of danger. I was able to release him and take a step back.

He took a deep breath. _This will be harder than I had anticipated._ "You might want to take a breath too. You don't need it anymore, but it might make you less… anxious," he explained.

A rush of confusion filled me again. I didn't need to breathe anymore- yet I still could? I felt the turmoil bubbling inside of me again and I took a deep breath before my bewilderment got out of control again and my hand crushed his throat once more.

The doctor was right. It wasn't the same as when I had been alive; I did not feel the need to breathe out of necessity. It did not bring the sense of physical relief as it had when I was alive, but rather mental relief. With the addition of scent, I could once again take into account my surroundings and reconfirm that there was no danger present.

I felt slightly calmer. Calm enough to ask the question I needed an answer to more than anything.

"So… I am dead then?" I had _thought_ that I was calmer and yet my voice – musical intonations and all- still sounded threatening to me.

He deliberated for a moment. _How to answer? I can't rush things- he's already barely in control of himself. _"It's difficult to say. In a sense- yes, you are dead, or perhaps no longer alive is the better term- alive in the way that you are accustomed to, anyway. But, in another sense, you can actually no longer die- not easily anyway- and will live for the rest of eternity."

That explained nothing, only increased my confusion. My eyes narrowed and a sound erupted from my chest. It was a ferocious snarl, better accustomed to coming from a lion or bear than, well- a person, and much less a dead one. Yet, there I was- _snarling_. "What do you mean?" I said through clenched teeth.

He paused and looked away from me. He seemed to look, and I could tangibly _feel,_ an incredible guilt coming from him. "I truly, truly had not been planning on this happening. I had thought about it for years, centuries actually," this puzzled me greatly, but he continued on before I could ask, "But I never thought I would actually do it." He looked up from the ground into my eyes steadily. "Your mother was the one to make me decide. She begged me to save you. She knew that I was different. She died shortly after making her request."

To my utter astonishment, I could see it all happening in my head. Not just what I might imagine it to be, but clearly, precisely, I saw the hospital room. When I tried to remember any memories of my own of being in the hospital, they were murky, as if I couldn't see them properly. And yet, with this new image, there was my mother, her face contorted in anguish and pain, clutching the doctor's wrist, begging him to save my life.

As I marveled, the doctor continued, "And then, I saw you lying there." I somehow saw it too, again with the clear precision. "I'd always had a bit of fondness for your family- too much probably. I had worked very hard to save all of you, but, by that time, it was out of my hands. But, after your mother's request, I knew there was one thing that I could do to save _your_ life. And if I hadn't known without a shadow of a doubt that you would die soon, too, I would have never done it." His eyes were pleading at me now. "Please know that, Edward."

I was abruptly bewildered by the fact that he knew my name. I knew of course that he should know it, but it almost felt like we were strangers now, meeting for the first time. Yet I too could feel his sincerity and truthfulness in telling me this. That was the only thing that I _had_ understood from his explanation. Everything else was completely incomprehensible. "What did you do?" I asked warily.

"I did what your mother asked of me- I saved your life," he said in a low, guarded voice. "But, it is a very different life than the one you knew."

The snarls were building in my chest again out of my confusion. There was an electric pulsing in my veins like adrenaline that had me yearning to crush the doctor's throat again so that he would give me answers finally. The utter necessity for that boiled over and I reacted before I even had time to think about it.

I lunged at him, so quickly and with such strength, he could have never blocked me. I hurled him to the floor, pinning his arms down and ignoring the sound as the force of it cracked through the oak wood, leaving large gaping holes in the otherwise smooth paneling. I brought a knee to his torso to further immobilize him, and felt the sudden desire to shove it straight through his chest. And yet, as I noticed for the first time how hard his body was, I felt like that might not work. Something in me was telling me to use my _teeth_, to rip them across his skin like a razor blade till it sunk through all of it, that that would finally do the trick…

"Just tell me." I spat each word slowly, trying to gain control of my frightening rage.

He made no attempt to defend himself or fight me. Though his skin was hard, just as mine was, I strangely realized, his body felt weak, vulnerable almost. His eyes were agonized as he looked into mine. When he spoke, it came out as a hollow whisper. "I turned you into a creature like myself."

What did he mean? He looked just the same as I remembered him, well, perhaps I was seeing him slightly different, but I was seeing everything different. I remembered that I occasionally heard him use this word while I had been tortured, or whatever that had been. I saw that image once again that was consistently popping into my head, and there was no other word than he had used for whatever I was seeing. But it was _not_ me.

My jaw was so strained it made it hard to speak through. "A creature?"

"There are many names for what I am- what _we_ are. There have been stories for- we don't even know when they began, but for many millennia. Each time it is different and not one of them is totally correct." Here he paused to take a deep breath, then looked at me with determined eyes. "But the name you would probably understand best is…vampire."

If I hadn't been filled with a murderous frustration and confusion, I would have laughed. What was he playing at? Though I could sense no dishonesty from him, my mind was not willing to accept this answer. The surprise of his answer lessened the fury I felt and I let go of him, standing once again.

"Vampire?" I asked, a slight edge of sarcasm in my otherwise frightening voice.

He stood up as well, in a single, quick graceful movement. "Yes. A creature of the night, the immortal dead" – he paused for a second, then said in a lower, more sorrowful tone- "the eternal damned."

I still wasn't buying it. "So, that's what that was all about- all of that pain? Because I'm _in_ hell, I had to transform into a monster that belongs there as well?"

He looked almost upset. "Some might consider it that, however I do not. What you went through was the transformation process for becoming one of our kind." He looked away and shook his head slightly. "I should apologize. I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing- how to do it right. I only copied the wounds I had been given, and I have a feeling now that it may have been more than was necessary."

Perhaps from the goodness and honesty coming from this man, his explanation was starting to get to me, touching at the edges of my understanding. But if what he was saying was true, that image of that monster that kept creeping into my head would have to be _me_, and I could not accept that.

"And so, now I have to stay away from sunlight and garlic and crosses, right?" My voice still had that touch of irony in it, apart from the undercurrent of danger.

He shook his head. "No, those were part of the myths; humans wanted to believe that they had some kind of protection against -our- kind, so they created them.

"I discovered these things for myself. I was born in London in the earlier half of the seventeenth century." Once again, an uncalled for image flooded my head of exactly what he was talking about, though these images were much hazier than the ones before. I could see a small English village and a parish with a pastor and what looked to be this man, but in very different clothes. It couldn't be from my imagination though. It had to be something that the doctor was doing. I could not take this any longer.

The image abruptly ended and the picture of that creature with red eyes filled my mind again. His expression looked murderous.

_What happened?_ "What's wrong?" Dr. Cullen asked cautiously.

"How are you doing that?" My voice had translated my anxiety and confusion into a very lethal tone.

"What?" he asked, looking as confused as I felt.

"I just…I just saw it in my head. Exactly what you were talking about. The rows of white cottages with straw-thatched roofs, the parish on the left corner of the road. And then, when you were talking about my mother and me in the hospital, I saw it all in my head, too."

Dr. Cullen continued to stare at me. _How can that be? Is this some kind of…?_

"And how do you keep doing _that?"_ I exploded.

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly, probably trying to soothe my obvious rage. I was very close to attacking him again.

"Talking without moving your lips- it's driving me insane." I pressed my fingers to my temples, my mind so utterly confused it was almost painful. "Don't do it again."

"What did you hear?" he asked cautiously, but with a hint of curiosity.

I repeated the words, feeling like perhaps the doctor should be institutionalized. Or perhaps myself. If they had sanitariums in hell, that is.

Dr. Cullen now looked at me appraisingly, with a look of wonderment in his eyes._ Ah, he has a gift. He can read thoughts._

"_What?"_

He gave a strained chuckle. "This is going to take some time getting used to."

"What do you mean gift?"

He considered thinking his answer- I _did_ hear it and it seemed obvious then that it was coming from his thoughts- then upon seeing my expression decided to speak it aloud. "It happens some times with our kind. My theory is that whatever characteristics and traits we have in our human life are strengthened in our new life. You must have been very aware of the thoughts of others and now you can physically hear them- and see the images that go with them."

Well it was one way to explain it. Probably the only way. Things were starting to make sense to me, but I didn't want them to. Not yet.

"Do you have a gift?" I asked, wanting to distract my brain from understanding.

He smiled and looked down. "Not in the physical sense that yours is. But I do think I am very different from others of our kind. Which brings me back to my own story…" he paused, "But I suppose we should leave that till later when you are more at rest. I think we have waited as long as is possible. We should hunt."

Once again he was using words that seemed entirely out of context. And yet, something in the idea brought the ache in my throat from a dull pain to a flaming torch. "Hunt?" I choked out.

He motioned for me to follow him as he walked out of the room. I began to walk and found that the motion was incredibly different to what I was used to. My gait was much faster than before, I gauged that I could cover seventy miles in one hour at this same pace. We were out of the house, which consisted of three other rooms, and into the slightly overcast weather outside in the space of four seconds. The doctor led me out into the wooded area nearby.

"Not all of the myths were wrong, you see," he continued on with his explanation. "We do still need the blood of others to survive, but it does not have to be the blood of humans." He paused. "I suppose I'll need to explain more about that later."

I was almost so distracted by all of my new surroundings, and the precise _way_ that I could see, hear, and smell them, that I almost didn't understand at first what he said. "_Blood?_"

"Yes, it's the only thing that you will need to consume from now on. You no longer have need for any other food or drink, "he smiled a little wryly, "and you'll find that nothing else is very palatable to you."

So I no longer needed food or water? Well, it made sense either way, whether I was dead, or… something else (I still fought against the idea and especially the name). I could still smell the cool air of the stream near the house and, though my throat felt much the same as a man locked in a desert for two weeks might, it did not appeal to me in the slightest.

With that though, I caught the scent of something else. It was large; I could hear its heavy footfall in the leaves sixty yards away from us. The beat of its heart sounded a little faster than it should be, as if it were slowing down from exercise. There was a whiff of another animal's blood in the air too; perhaps it had just come from its own hunt.

In comparison to the water of the stream, this animal _did_ rather appeal to me. My mind would no longer allow itself to wonder why that was, so powerfully did my body long to have that animal's blood- to have _something_ assuage my charred throat- that it no longer permitted any protestations.

The doctor watched me, taking in all of my reactions. When I looked at him, unsure of what to do, he nodded encouragingly. _Follow your instincts._

I followed the scent easily. It was undoubtedly the largest animal in the surrounding area, and I found immediately that its blood was also more appealing than any others. I felt like an animal myself, with my body half-crouched, prowling towards my… my prey. It was not totally dissimilar to when I'd been hunting before when I was alive, but I had certainly never hunted like _this._

It was twelve feet away from me now and I could see him. It was a cougar. Though I had not made a sound as I'd ghosted towards him, the animal stiffened and stopped in its tracks. He had sensed the oncoming danger. His blood was now pumping with adrenaline and the beat of his heart had amplified in tempo. It made a moist, squeezing sound that increased his appeal. Though my mouth was now filled with some kind of moisture, it equally inflamed the dryness in my throat.

He paused for a second, waiting for a sound or movement to betray his attacker. My own body tensed as it measured the correct amount of force to propel me to him.

Then I sprang at him.

He did not understand till my hands were already wrapped around his throat; my descent had made no noise. He tried to bolt, but my arms were already smoothly enclosed around his form, making escape entirely impossible. His claws rose as I pushed him to the ground and would have, at any other time, ripped the skin of my face off, but surprisingly, they had no more impact than a fan of feathers brushed lightly across my skin.

He stretched his neck back in a roar of rage, letting the tendons stand out. I didn't need any more direction or sign or instruction than that. My lips parted and my head lowered until my teeth slipped effortlessly through the folds of his fur, his muscles, all the way until it met with the large vein pumping along his throat.

In that moment, I knew.

I was a vampire.

I drank and drank, and even by the time I could no longer feel any more blood left in him, nor any more weak protests from his slackened body, I was still thirsty. I could tell, somehow, that, though it felt soothing along my scorched throat, the flavor of the blood itself was not what it should be. But at the moment, I only wanted to tame the burning dryness I felt that it did not matter.

I left the carcass on the ground, noting that I had much of his blood and claw marks down the front of my shirt. I turned back to the doctor, whom I had almost forgotten was there at all.

He watched me with a pleased expression on his face. _That went better than I'd hoped even._

Did that? I was abruptly bewildered and astonished and frightened that I had just killed an animal with nothing more than my hands and teeth, and drank all of its blood.

_And I'd liked it. _

"You did quite well," he observed. "Much better than I did on my first time, actually. But I was in a different state of mind by that point," he muttered the last part. I couldn't tell if he had misinterpreted my expression or if he was simply trying to divert my attention away from the fact that I was now a killing machine.

"A different state of mind?" My voice came out a little strangled.

"Yes, which I will tell you all about, but I imagine you're still thirsty now. There's generally a few bears up a few miles or so away from us. They have a better flavor than anything else around here. Shall we?" He indicated ahead of us with a slight smile.

And, as though it were the normal and completely accepted thing to do, I followed him to drain the blood of some more animals.

We returned to the house after clearing the area of most of its largest animals. We'd spent several hours tracking down prey, but also the doctor had told me of his history, how he came to be what he was. I saw it all in his mind too, everything that had happened, his centuries of existence, the many lands he had been to, and most especially, why he was different from any other vampire.

I knew, in every word that he said, that he was telling the truth.

And he was right- the ache in my throat was still present but more in control now. I was able to concentrate on other things now, but more than anything I was unable to keep my own horror at what had happened at bay.

Because I believed the doctor now and I could no longer fool myself anymore. I knew that that creature with the white pale skin and the deadly red eyes was me.

I noted for the first time that the doctor's eyes were not red though.

"Dr. Cullen?"

"Please, call me Carlisle. If you don't mind, that is."

I suppose that was better. I knew him now as a completely different person, and it was best that he had a new name for that association. "Why are my eyes red, and yours aren't?"

"You still have much of your own human blood in your system, which you can see in your eyes. It also gives you greater strength than I do, or any other of our kind. But both of these will wear off after a few months, and will be gone completely after the first year. Your eyes will then turn to the same color as mine."

I nodded and looked away, staring at nothing. Now that my body was somewhat more in control, my mind was losing its hold and I felt once again immersed in turmoil.

Though I knew the doctor- Carlisle- could not read _my_ thoughts, he sensed what I was feeling.

"When this first happened to me," he began gently, "as I told you, I considered myself to be a monster- the most vile thing that could ever walk the earth. I tried to destroy myself many, many times. Yet while trying, I found another way to live this life than had been wrought upon me- one where I wasn't so much of a monster. And because of this, I have been able to improve myself- my knowledge and talents- so much so that I am able to help humans in a way I couldn't have as a human myself.

"There are many that think we have lost our souls- certainly that is what my father thought. But, I do not believe so. Who knows but that this is what God intended for us?

"Am I glad that this happened to me? I do not know. I do not know how my life would have been without it. I've only thought to work with what I have been given- and in that case, I am happy with my life.

"I, of course, leave it up to you if you want to live this life- with me. I would not stop you if you wanted to go, because it is, of course, my fault that you are here in this situation." He paused and added more fervently, "But I hope you will stay, Edward."

I could feel in every part of me, whether from my new abilities or simple intuition, that I could trust this man. That he was honest, and good, and true. And I had no idea where else I would go, if I wanted to leave.

But it was so much to take in. I had no words to say to him.

Taking in my expression, he nodded slightly. "I'd best give you some time by yourself, to think things through." He walked quietly out of the room.

I walked over to stand before the window facing west. The clouds were gone now and the sun was beginning to set, and I was seeing each dazzling ray as it burst forth from the glowing orb in a way that I could have never seen before.

But what captivated my interest more than anything was the reflection of myself in the window. Wherever the bright sunlight touched, my skin sparkled as if it were made of thousands of jewels. This creature was not so frightening. It was almost… dazzling in its beauty.

Yet, all too quickly, as if the color and life were being sucked out of him, that creature was replaced in the window by the monster with bright white skin and red eyes. The glittering sun slipped behind the screen of hills surrounding the house, and all light was gone. Twilight. The ending of a day.

Was that what this was- the end of my life? The end of all light and goodness and the beginning of everything dark and evil? For most of the day, well actually, several days, I had thought that- known that my life was over. And thought that I was in hell.

Was this hell though? Had I lost my soul and become a monster?

I did not know.

I waited and waited and still my body would not tire, would not fall asleep. The moon rose high into the pitch night sky and I was still incredibly alert, like the feeling of exhaustion would never come to me again. I had been right- I was dead after all. Strangely though, the power trilling in my limbs, even while at rest, and the new capabilities of my mind, made me feel more alive than I had ever been. I had died and awoken to a new life.

Author's note: I'm sorry that this chapter took so long to write. I promise I won't take so long again. And I swear answers to what happened in the last chapter will be explained more in the next chapter, and will be explained fully in the chapter after that. We just needed some backgrounding, first.


	9. Adjustment

**Adjustment**

"Are you ready?"

I looked out over the not quite bustling landscape of the village of Mt. Prospect. It was April now and there were not many people out as the temperature was a mere twenty-eight degrees, a fresh two feet of snow covered the ground, and a howling wind swept chillingly through the area. The people who did venture outside of their warm homes were bundled up with thick woolen sweaters and mittens.

The cold did not bother me of course- it might have been a perfect seventy-five degrees complete with a balmy, caressing breeze for all that it felt like to me. However, I was just as anxious as any of the townspeople to get into one of the warm storefronts that lined the main street of the village.

"Yes," I answered confidently.

Carlisle gripped my shoulder in a sign of trust and watched me as I headed off alone to the town at a much slower pace than we'd come.

This was not our first trip into town- it was actually the twelfth time we'd come in the last ten months. Of course, Carlisle thought we should wait several months before attempting any kind of contact with humans. But once we'd started, we then began coming much more frequently to strengthen my stamina.

The village was roughly nine miles from the house that Carlisle had taken me to ten months ago. I found out later that this was actually a house he had owned before for a long time and had only used when he needed to go out of the city to hunt. He had owned a house in the city where he mainly lived, but obviously had not thought it wise to bring me there whilst I transformed. The house here was situated miles from any other human for the express purpose of being out of the way of any temptation.

We'd started slowly. To my surprise, Carlisle suggested that we begin with crowds of people rather than a single human. He explained, and I later found out to be true for myself, that large groups of humans were easier to resist as the threat of danger- or more, the threat of discovery was strong enough to deter the incredible thirst. Being with a single human all by oneself, with no threat of consequence, was much more of a challenge.

Which was precisely our test for today. I had graduated from walking along the sidelines of crowds with Carlisle's hand firmly on my shoulder, whispering words of encouragement, to walking amongst a large group of people with Carlisle at a distance, and then lately we'd been working on enclosed spaces with smaller amounts of people. The last time we'd come to town, I'd been in a store with only two other people and Carlisle across the room. Each time it had gotten easier- the thirst would eventually recede as I thought of other things.

I did admittedly have a great advantage with my new abilities- my "gift" as Carlisle called it. It made it much easier to keep a hold on reality and remember that these creatures with delicious smelling blood- so much more mouthwatering than that of other animals- were actually people and had lives. Hearing their thoughts was incredibly effective in reminding me that they should have better ends to their lives than simply being a meal for me.

Today Carlisle wanted to challenge me. For the first time, he would leave me completely alone in the town, and I would withstand being in a room with a single person.

I was just a tad nervous. I'd grown a lot in my stamina since we'd first begun- I'd never actually attacked anyone, though we'd had some close calls at first. By now, I was able to maneuver through a crowd with ease and could be in more confined spaces with just slightly more difficulty. Still, it had always been comforting to know that Carlisle was right there, and able to interfere should anything go awry.

Just as he had predicted, I had lost nearly all of the strength common to newborns and my eyes had gone from red to amber, and now they were just the same shade of golden brown that Carlisle's were.

I was the most grateful for this change as the blood red irises that had been a part of my new face had always frightened me the most. I had grown well-accustomed to most of the other changes. I remembered exactly the feeling of horror at myself when I understood what I'd been changed into, but now, I could readily accept the view of Dr. Cullen- that this really was not such a horrid life.

It was amazing all of the things one could experience when the foibles of mortality were taken away- even the simple act of sleeping. With all of those hours of the night now completely available, there was so much to do! I'd taken up reading all of Carlisle's books, some of which he'd had here already and some of which, after seeing my interest, he'd ordered from the store in the village. All I needed was to read them once and then I had every paragraph, every word of every sentence stored carefully in my powerful memory. It was utterly fascinating and marvelous.

That did not come till many months had passed however. The first several months we'd spent nearly every day hunting. It was all I could think about at that time, and it was as if the flames in my throat could never be quenched. Eventually though, we'd try lasting a day without needing to hunt, then broadening to several days, until a week. I could now go more than eleven days without hunting.

However today we had not wanted to take any chances. We'd hunted the night before in anticipation of this trip into town. The circles under my eyes had all but disappeared, there appeared an almost flush to my pallid skin, and my eyes only reflected a golden butterscotch color. Quite unassuming and nothing suspicious to be found at all.

All the same, no matter these changes, I could well anticipate the reactions I would receive upon interacting with people as it was always the same. You generally could not stare at a human for more than eight seconds as their instincts, though so much slower than ours, could at least pick up on the quite real sense of danger and they would become frightened. They also became wary if you were too still, which I came to notice, was a natural state for my kind. And it was more than just a little frustrating and tedious to force myself to move as a human, or, as it felt like to me- moving in slow motion.

I walked along the platform that enclosed the lines of storefronts. There were eighteen people out in total today- six braving the cold in the streets, and twelve inside of the various stores, whether working or shopping. And my goal was to enter a shop with one single human by myself, and leave them alive.

The bakery had the greatest amount, most of which were mothers buying their bread for breakfast the next day. The bar had an unsurprising amount of people, considering that it was late at night. And the dry goods store had a scattering of humans, purchasing items that would best serve them for the blustery night ahead.

In the post office however, there was a single human, trying determinedly to send off a letter, despite the time of day or the uncompromising weather. The man who operated the office had gone to ask the authorities if it would be possible to send any mail out. This would have to be the best option.

Taking a deep breath, not for the supply of oxygen but merely as a way to savor the clean, crisp air before the it would be tainted with the most agonizingly luscious aroma, I finally opened the door to the post office.

The woman turned her head slightly to see who had come in, hoping it would be the clerk. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in my appearance before she quickly turned her head back to the post shelves.

_Oh my._

Mrs. Durberville had seen me before, but always when I had been accompanied by Carlisle. Carlisle had been able to interact more with the villagers of Mt. Prospect, with whom he had never had reason to talk to before, and had given them the alibi that we were a father and son staying in the nearby area for a year-long hunting excursion. Mrs. Durberville liked the pleasing, easy-going manners of the man they called Dr. Cullen, but found me to be rather frightening. She always seemed to see something predatory-like in my expression- and there was no change in that estimation of myself now.

In my defense, the woman wasn't making it any easier on me. From the time that her eyes had frozen in recognition of me, the beat of her heart had increased to a much higher tempo, and yet still one could clearly hear the lovely, moist squeezing sound of the space in between beats. The circulation of blood in her system also speeded up in conjunction with her heartbeat, and was now racing through her veins. I could hear the change, but also, agonizingly, _see_ it as her hair was piled high on her head, leaving a clear, terribly inviting view of her small neck, with a quite salient vein throbbing on the side.

But I had been through this before. This part was really not so bad. It was all a mere precursor to when I could actually catch the scent of her, with all of the potent markings combined in one.

I turned around to the window of the store front, folding my arms in front of my chest, as if to somehow steady myself. I then closed my eyes, willing them to block out the appealing sight I had just seen, in preparation for the assault I was about to receive to my throat.

And then I finally took a breath.

Ah, she was truly appetizing. My mouth filled with venom, the name that Carlisle had defined as the moisture that filled my mouth when hunting, and my throat felt as if a torch had been ignited in its depths. There was still no one around close by, no one to notice anything wrong.

In my mind, I easily imagined my body turning towards her, silently, gliding closer to the source of that incredibly sweet, enticing aroma until I was mere inches away from her, my hands slightly raised, ready to stretch that tantalizing throat back and sink my teeth into its soft contours. I could hunt much more cleanly now; not a single drop of her blood would touch the wooden floor beneath us.

_Oh, how I hope he comes home soon..._

I opened my eyes to see the cold window front. The pull of the scent was just as strong, but, as I read the thoughts of the human whose blood I had just desperately desired a moment ago, it was slightly less appealing now.

Mrs. Durberville was very keen to get a letter out to her husband tonight. He had been away for weeks, attending to business at one of the factories he owned in Chicago. But for the past few days their son had come down with a fever and she was now most insistent that Mr. Durberville come home immediately. She had stayed up all night long yesterday with her son and could not leave until this time, and now she absolutely dreaded whether she would be able to send the letter at all tonight.

I took a few steps back from her, silently so that she would not notice. She would never know how close she came to death herself just now.

The door swung open with a tinkling bell attached to it, signaling the arrival of another human. I was grateful- it really was easier with more people in the room.

The man that entered was still not the post master. He was Mr. Durberville, tall and young with a neatly clipped black mustache, and the shoulders of his thick coat lightly dappled with newly fallen snow. His mouth stretched wide revealing very white teeth as he saw his wife.

"Darling!" she cried in surprised relief.

The couple took in my appearance as if remembering that I was here at all. I turned around, pretending to look at different kinds of stationary, to give them more privacy. Well, at least the _illusion_ of privacy- I could still see and hear everything, even were I to try to block it out.

Mr. Durberville brought his arms around his wife and smiled indulgently at her. "You seem to be happy at my early arrival?" he murmured, and if I was only human, I likely would not have been able to hear it.

She beamed adoringly in response. "Why, yes of course. I was just about to write you- but how ever were you able to come home so soon?"

He swept some loose strands from her forehead before answering. "I finished business at the factory sooner than anticipated." He smiled with a strange gleam in his eyes.

I froze. Not because the addition of this scent made things more difficult. Not because I was afraid of losing control. It was because I knew exactly why Mr. Durberville had been able to leave business early in Chicago.

Mr. Durberville had needed to stop by one of his downtown businesses because of a recurring problem with the workers. The factory was mainly staffed by children under the age of thirteen years old, and most came from several orphanages in the area. This was of course, an astute business strategy as they could pay them so little, as well as keep working and housing conditions at a bare minimum. There was one drawback however, and that was that such conditions did not make the children the most healthy or happy. As Mr. Durberville inspected the factory, he had observed some of the boys talking back to one of the supervisors and decided to demonstrate proper punishment for such offenses. Unfortunately, the leather whip he'd used, or perhaps the vehemence that he'd employed while using it, was too strong for two of the boys, and they had died the night before. As they were orphans and in sole employ of the factory, there was no one to be missed by them and no one of consequence to notice their disappearances, so they buried their bodies behind the factory. This was protocol for Mr. Durberville by now, as it had not been the first time that this had occurred.

He'd also delayed his arrival at home for some days by stopping in at the abode of his mistress.

I could feel the bloodlust rising in me again, and perhaps this time I would not be able to control myself anymore. But this was for an entirely different reason.

Just as the thoughts of Mrs. Durberville had helped dissipate the call for her blood, the contents of Mr. Durberville's mind might end up being the cause of his death.

The postmaster finally arrived back in the store, momentarily disabling my murderous intent.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Durberville, there's simply no mail going out tonight. Not in this weather."

She smiled happily at him. "Oh, that's alright, Frank. I don't need to send a letter anymore." She placed her arm in her husband's and the couple walked out of the store, looking perfectly happy and content.

Frank Greesom, the postmaster, looked to me. "And you, young man? Is there anything I can help you with?" he asked politely.

I turned from the stand of stationary, my jaw clenched tight and my hands in fists in the pockets of my jacket. Frank's eyes widened and he stiffened at the expression on my face. I had to admit, it was rather terrifying.

"No, thank you," I muttered before walking out of the store.

I took in several deep breaths of clean air as I tried to control myself. I recalled all of the things that Carlisle constantly told me, of the sanctity of people's lives, that we could be different from others of our kind, that we did not have to be slaves to our base instincts.

I believed him implicitly, though we had yet to encounter any others of our kind in the area to provide a different outlook. From the first he had ever told me, I knew I could trust absolutely in his view, in this way of living that he had sacrificed much to have.

And yet, sometimes I wondered…

Would it really be so bad to eliminate the humans that did not deserve life- the ones that were barely human themselves? I had the uncommon ability to see just who was worthy of the life they had and who were not- and Mr. Durberville was by far hardly the most evil mind I had trespassed. I knew perfectly well that there were much more depraved and decrepit minds currently enjoying complete anonymity and had little chance of being discovered and brought to condemnation.

Could this not as well be some of the benefits of my new gifts- to bring justice to those who truly deserved it? And would it not be the best option for myself as well- finally able to partake of the blood that called to me so tantalizingly, and still be justified in doing so?

I would never align myself with those of our kind that Carlisle had met in Italy; I could never desire to hunt the innocent. It was only during times like these, when I met with those who would serve the world better sleeping under six feet of dirt, that I could at all imagine myself actually feeding off of humans.

But these thoughts always dissipated after a few moments, when the bloodlust was under control. I had never talked about this view with Carlisle, knowing what he would say. I had learned quickly that he had a lot of faith in people, too much perhaps. Still, it was not worth it to throw the life I had established with Carlisle away.

I walked out of the town, a bit too quick to appear normal. It did not matter as much, as even less people were out now. The snow was falling thicker, and the temperature had dropped another five degrees.

Soon I had arrived at the town limits, finding Carlisle at exactly the same place I had left him. His expression was slightly worried as he watched me. I remembered that I had passed today's test and smiled quickly to reassure him. His features relaxed into a smile in return.

"I take it things went well, then?" he asked.

I paused slightly. "Yes. I caught Mrs. Durberville alone at the post office. Certainly, it was a bit harder than usual, but I was able to endure it. She was never in any danger." Again, I was reluctant to tell Carlisle that the real danger had only occurred when Mrs. Durberville's husband arrived.

Carlisle clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I'm so proud of you, Edward. You've adapted to this life so well, I can't…" he faltered for a moment, then smiled easily. "Well, actually, I'm sure you _are_ aware of how much it means to me."

I smiled back at him at the reference to my mind reading abilities. I certainly did know how often Carlisle pondered the increase in happiness that had occurred in his life since he'd decided to change me. It was vastly different compared to the centuries of solitude he'd endured before, having no one to share this life with him, like the difference between night and day. And, though he'd never said it aloud, at times I'd caught him thinking of me as his son.

I did not mind this comparison so much. Even if my memories of my human life were not quickly fading away, as they most definitely were, I imagined I would still view Carlisle as a type of father for myself- the father of my new life.

And this was another reason why I felt reluctant to share with him my occasional bloodlust for less deserving humans.

We ran back to the home, barely leaving tracks in the snow-covered hills. It took us much less than a minute to cover the nine miles.

I stepped into the large living room, taking out one of Carlisle's medical tomes that I had not read yet. It was about six hundred pages in volume; if I perused it carefully, it might entertain me for two hours or so.

Carlisle sat down on the large couch in the middle of the room. He watched me for a minute; his thoughts indicated that he was preparing himself for something.

"Edward, there's something that I'd like to discuss with you."

I looked up from the medical book. There was a slight guarded look in his expression, but he tried to appear natural.

"There was a bit more to the test that I gave you today, which you passed so excellently. Now you know that you can do this by yourself- or choose to live this life at all. I don't want you to feel any debt to me, and you're welcome now to make the decision for yourself- if you want to stay with me." He'd tried to keep his voice polite and level as he'd spoken, but by the end there was just a tinge of rough emotion.

I'd heard him occasionally thinking such thoughts before- and knew how much it was costing him to give me this option. I smiled at him easily. "Of course, I want to stay with you, Carlisle."

His eyes closed for a second, his joy and relief so strong. He did not trust himself to speak, so he used his mind instead. _Thank you._

He took a deep breath, his expression brightened considerably. "Well, now that that's settled, I wanted to suggest that we move on to a new area. I usually wait a few more years before moving to a new area, but I think it might be best to have a fresh start soon. You have very clearly proven that you are capable of withstanding temptation and I think we could handle a more populated city. I was thinking of going more north, up to Wisconsin- it's much easier for us when the climate is overcast more throughout the year and I've heard that they have excellent hospitals there. They also have some fine colleges there, if you wanted to further your education. But if you had any other ideas, I'm more than open to them."

This too did not surprise me as I'd often heard him contemplating it over the last few months. And it was good as it had given me time to think for myself if there was anything I needed to do before finally leaving the area of my birth and all ties to my human life behind.

"I'm more than willing to go anywhere you want, Carlisle- but there is something that I'd like to do before we leave." My voice came out a little unsure.

"What is it?"

I looked down at my hands as I spoke and tried to keep my voice level as well. "When my parents died, there were no other surviving members of the family to inherit- it should have all gone to me. If we wait too late, the house, my mother's things, will have all gone to the state. I was wondering, if it would be at all possible for us to return, just for a few days, so that I can claim them."

Carlisle did not speak for a moment, studying my expression carefully. He could tell how important it was to me, but he could also think of some major impediments in such a plan. He spoke hesitantly. "I can well understand your desire to retain the things of your family, Edward. I too, kept a relic of my father's parsonage for sentimental reasons. But, I waited until several decades had passed to return, so that no one could possibly remember me. And, as you know, we don't know what has been decided with regards to your supposed death- none of the news has reached here. It could be very dangerous for the both of us to try to return."

I had thought of all of these reasons myself. I knew it was probably foolish. But my own memories were fading so fast, I could barely recall the look of the house I had grown up in, or the scent of my mother's perfume she had always worn. I already well felt that I had dishonored my parents by allowing them to die, and now I was almost entirely forgetting their existence. The only hope I had was by retaining their physical possessions, I could somehow keep their memory alive.

Carlisle took in my expression, not needing to read my thoughts to know what I was feeling. "Well, there's no harm in trying is there? We certainly know how to be inconspicuous." He sighed slightly. "We should start off by knowing what has been determined of your death, and if there were any connections made between my subsequent disappearance. We could make a stop at the hospital…"

"Why the hospital?"

"The hospital where I worked at and your family had been interred should have your medical records. Usually, if a mysterious death has occurred, they'll place a copy of any police findings or official statements in them as well. We could go directly to the police station for that, but"- he gave a grim smile- "if they determined that I murdered you, it's probably safer to check the hospital instead."

I nodded, not even aware that that conclusion could have been reached.

"Of course, having you in a hospital, with likely liberal amounts of blood in the air, is probably not the best idea. Would you prefer to stay here?"

I had anticipated this too, and very much agreed with his assessment. "I was thinking, rather, that I might visit the graves of my parents- since this will likely be the last time we are in the area for awhile. And," I gave a wry smile, "a cemetery should not be too dangerous for me, even by myself."

Carlisle nodded. "Yes, you should be fine. At best, it should take no more than a few days. If they thought that your body simply went missing, we can write to the procurers of the will and give proof that you survived."

"And if they thought you murdered me?" I asked lightly.

Carlisle's face turned bleak. I had tried to keep any accusation from my tone, as of course, I felt no resentment towards him, yet knowing that he would take it hard anyway. "Then we'll have to find some other means, perhaps. But, we'll find something, Edward. I promise we'll do everything we can."

I nodded again. This would be my final farewell, not only to my parents or the city that I grew up in, but most importantly my life as a human. And I could withstand it if I could just keep something from it. Something that would not fade with time, like my fast-slipping memories- that would last through eternity with me.

"It's dawn now," Carlisle observed as he looked through the curtains, bringing me from my thoughts. "The sun is coming out, so we won't be able to be out until the storm comes again. Shall we postpone our trip until tonight?"

I looked at him, feeling the determination forming in myself. "Tonight," I agreed.

Author's Note: When I first thought of the plotline for this story, I just kind of thought that Edward would come back at some point to claim his parents' things. Later I found that this did actually happen! From the Twilight Lexicon, personal correspondance with Stephenie Meyer #4:"Edward inherited a lot of property from his parents (he did pretend to "survive" to claim that later, along with his "uncle," because he wanted his mother's things. He still owns the house in Chicago)."

Ah, and while researching for this chapter, I've finally decided on a location for the story. So, the hospital where Carlisle and Bella worked at is Provident Hospital of Cook County, Bella lives on E 48th and S Evans Ave., and the college she applied to is the University of Chicago. And obviously, from this chapter, you know that Carlisle and Edward were staying in Mt. Prospect. I've added these little changes in the proper chapters.


	10. Sin

**Sin**

The clouds covered the sky for the final time at precisely a quarter past seven. The sun was just about to dip behind the horizon, so we knew that it would be safe to finally depart and at last slipped into the quickly darkening countryside.

We ran for the first twenty miles avoiding areas with population. This took less than a few minutes. Once we reached the outer limits of Chicago, we'd decided to take a cab. It looked more inconspicuous and it would be faster than walking at a human pace. I marveled a little though at how slow it seemed to me; I faintly recalled my fascination and excitement for a motor car when I was human. This was only slightly less tedious than walking. It could have potential though, if only someone could make it faster…

"Oakswood Cemetery," Carlisle told the driver. He glanced at me, trying to be surreptitious as he checked my control. He wondered how being in the small confined space was affecting me with a human.

Bill Puller, the driver, was in no danger, however. He smelled just as appealing as any other human did, but my thoughts were occupied enough to distract me from the allure of his scent.

We arrived at the cemetery in due time. Carlisle got out of the cab with me.

"I should be gone no more than twenty minutes," he reassured me in a low voice that the driver of the car could not hear, though he was straining very hard to do so. "I hope to get in and out with no one noticing. The night shift will start soon and there should not be as many people working. Anyway, I really should not be gone long."

"I'll be fine, Carlisle. Remember, I should hardly have any temptation here," I gestured to the empty cemetery with a sardonic smile. "Take all of the time you need."

He nodded. "Yes. We will find a way to make this work, Edward."

"I trust you," I told him with a smile. He returned my smile, albeit slightly more grimly, then stepped into the cab. He gave the driver the name of the hospital and the car moved once more into the traffic. I watched it until it disappeared onto the streets. Then I turned to the hundreds of gravestones that covered the grounds of Oakswood Cemetery.

I was not entirely sure where my parents would be buried. They must have planned it in their wills, but I had never been made aware of that fact, supposing of course that their deaths would be a long while away indeed. Neither would they be exactly new so there would be no physical markings to guide me.

There was no one around- the caretaker was in his small abode nearby, getting dinner ready. I walked at my normal pace to search through the gravestones.

I came to them near the left corner of the cemetery. The stones were not ornate, but rather simple lines carved into stones of fine material. They were still clean and neat and showed no signs of wear. A befitting representation for the lives my mother and father had lived.

And at the very last of the row, nearly touching the fence enclosing the grounds, was my grave.

It was not as strange as I thought it would be, gazing down at my own grave, and not just because I knew the grave to be empty. Perhaps it was because I had accepted that my life, in some form, _had_ ended.

My life as a human was over. Life as a vampire was not as bad as some might believe it to be, at least the way that Carlisle had taught me, but it did not mean that there weren't certain aspects of my human life that I would not be able to revisit. That would not have changed unalterably.

I wondered if I would have wanted Carlisle to save my parents the way he had saved me. Their bodies may not have been able to withstand the pain however; perhaps it would have been a fruitless effort.

And as I contemplated, I felt assured that they were where they belonged now. My parents had been very good people; there could be no reason for them to be anywhere but in heaven.

Was there a place for me in that same heaven now?

It simply didn't seem right. A part of me very much _wanted_ to believe it- wanted to believe in Carlisle's view, that we would have the same chance as any other human, but we were so different from humans now. My natural reactions, even if I had learned to overcome them, were little better than a human murderer. How could I possibly be viewed in the same light?

And there simply had to be a price to pay for limitless strength and immortality. What greater price could there be than that of a soul?

Well, there was really no reason to worry about that now. As far as Carlisle had told me, I had no reason to fear my existence being extinguished as there was one single, and very difficult, way of accomplishing that. I would have eons to ponder over the status of my soul.

I looked to the graves of my parents again. I had not even thought to bring flowers, and as I viewed the surrounding snow-covered grounds, there was nothing available here either. The only thing I could do was promise that I would protect and keep safe all that they had left behind in the world and never allow them to fade. Especially as my own memories would.

I tried to dredge up some memories now. A few hazy flashes from my childhood surfaced. All happy, all good memories. But growing ever shorter, less clear.

I stared at their gravestones, memorizing each tiny facet until I heard the sound of the cab pull into the cemetery once more.

"Goodbye," I whispered to the cold night air and walked to the cemetery entrance.

Carlisle stepped out of the cab, a slightly apprehensive tenor to his thoughts, but relieved as well. It did not appear that there had been any trouble. His face smoothed as he saw me.

As he stepped closer to me, a breeze flowing before him blew past me and with it I caught a scent.

In that moment, the world shifted.

It was as if I had never smelled anything before, as if this was the first scent to have ever been caught by my senses. Or perhaps it was more that now there seemed to be no other smell that existed in the world beyond this mouthwatering, horrendously appealing aroma.

There was no choice in the matter. I had to find that scent, whoever its owner was, and devour it. It did not matter what I did or what would happen so long as I could taste the blood that belonged to that scent.

From the depths of this new haze that suddenly had control over my entire body, I found that my hands were clutching Carlisle's wrists, any harder and I might rip them away cleanly. My mouth was filled with venom, near to overflowing with it, and the thirst in my throat was more all-consuming and burning than ever before. Vicious, hostile snarls were ripping from my being, escaping from my mouth which had stretched wide to bare my glistening teeth. And from the reflection of Carlisle's eyes as well as the vantage point from his mind, I could see that my eyes had turned into a flat, ominous black.

Carlisle was utterly shocked by this reaction. He checked quickly behind him to see the cab driver, who was staring at us open-mouthed. He waved his hand to dismiss him and the driver, terrified, did not need much incentive beyond that.

Carlisle turned back to me. "What's wrong, Edward? What happened?"

I wasn't quite sure myself. This violently potent scent could not be from Carlisle, I knew that, but it seemed to be coming from him. I pinpointed the location finally.

"Your sleeve," I forced out between clenched teeth. "There's a scent..."

Carlisle's confusion remained etched on his face for a single second before it dawned in comprehension.

"Ah," he whispered. "Isabella Swan."

He was remembering his time in the hospital. Everything had been going perfectly, much better than he had hoped; no one that he had encountered had recognized him nor known him when he'd worked there. And then, more good luck when he'd found the folder with the results of my family's death. No foul play was suspected. But, just as he was finishing up, a young nurse walked in. She staggered in recognition of him, grabbing onto his arm for support….

_But I don't understand_, he thought. _Why is he reacting this way?_

"It's stronger," I choked out, still clutching at his arms, I suppose to support _me._ "Stronger than I've ever felt before."

He seemed to understand now; it had happened to him before, times when some human smelled better than another. And he knew what could bring sanity to me.

"Edward," Carlisle looked at me, gravely serious. He placed his hands on my shoulder to grip my shaking form. "The girl whose scent this is- her name is Isabella Swan. She is one of the few who still worked in the hospital from the time I was there. She had no trouble recognizing me immediately. She also might have made a connection between my disappearance and your death from the questions she asked…"

This was not helping. The newborn monster in me was using this one more reason to drain the blood from the girl. A volley of snarls erupted from me once more, and Carlisle was restraining me now.

"She worked directly with your mother"-Carlisle spoke as he struggled with me, letting his memories of that time flood into my mind- "and also you. It was under my counsel that she be put with your mother as she hated hospitals so much and I knew Miss Swan would be a comfort to her. She worked very hard to save your family and when she didn't, she was heartbroken."

I stopped trying to break free, falling to my knees with my head bowed, but the snarls continued to explode from my throat. I saw my mother's face from Carlisle's memories….

"You must remember yourself," Carlisle spoke in more subdued tones, placing a hand lightly on my back. "You must remember the importance of life. Would you take away the life of someone who worked so hard to save yours?"

I had never felt so primal before. Even when my teeth had torn through the flesh of animals, I'd never felt so wild, so… inhuman.

But the few semblances of humanity left in me resonated at the words of Carlisle. Enough to keep myself momentarily in control. Something about my mother's face kept me from hunting down the girl right now. Carlisle saw my indecision and capitalized on it.

"Let's get home quickly," he said, taking off his coat and shredding it to leave behind all temptation. Then he led me forward in a sprint across the streets.

I wasn't entirely sure how he enabled me to move. I was too locked in a battle over my body. But somehow, it followed Carlisle's lead into the darkened city, so fast that any normal human would not see us.

Pulling in deep gasps of clean, untainted air helped. My head became clearer now that the scent was not present. But it did not totally lessen the devastating bloodlust, for I could perfectly recall the inescapably delicious scent. If she smelled so incredible, how much better would her blood _taste_….

I shouldn't think of that. I _couldn't _think of that. I was more than that, more than a monster.

We passed the outskirts of the city within minutes. When we arrived home, Carlisle continued to streak past the house.

"Let's hunt," he suggested suddenly, slowing down with a hand on my wrist so that I would comply. He took a slight detour from our intended path into a more forested area. He could pick up on the sound of a herd of deer sixty yards away. He thought this would help ebb the desire for the girl's blood.

The scent was not appealing in the least to me now, it slightly turned my stomach, but I allowed my body to follow him, almost mechanically. When we came upon the herd, we did not hesitate. I sprang at the closest one to me and Carlisle took one at my left.

My teeth sank in and I began to drink, but it only made it worse. Because in comparison to the girl's scent, this blood was now repulsive, disgusting. How could it help going down my throat when it felt just as ragged and torched as when I first smelled the girl's scent? All I wanted to do was spit this revolting blood back out; this blood was not worth touching my lips to anymore. There was only one blood fit for that.

And there was no choice about it. No point in trying to delay the inevitable.

I would kill Isabella Swan.

Now that I had made the decision, embraced the monster in me, my mind went into strategic planning. Carlisle was going to try to stop me. But even after having lost most of my newborn strength, I was much faster than him. He was still occupied now with the deer. He hadn't needed to feed obviously, but he had wanted to show a sign of solidarity with me, to make _me_ feel better. Always too compassionate, too trusting…

There was a larger animal a couple of miles or so away to the west of here. I could tell Carlisle I would go after that, and slip out carefully enough now so that he wouldn't hear me, buying myself at least a few minutes before he noticed my absence. That coupled with my advantage of greater speed and I should be able to evade him. Should he come close, I would always have the forewarning of his thoughts.

I stood up from my half-drained kill, and Carlisle looked up at me from his with concern. "It's not enough- I need something larger," I told him. "I think I hear a bear in the region though. I'm going to go after him."

I was careful about my expression and voice- allowing nothing of the cold calculation I felt now to leak through. Carlisle, though worried about letting me go off by myself, believed me and nodded. "Go. I'll finish off here and join you after."

I nodded and turned away from him, breaking into a sprint in the direction of the sound of the bear's footsteps. When I was a mile from him, I turned in the other direction, towards the city again.

I allowed myself to really run, letting all of my strength flow to my legs. It did not matter that I had never been to the hospital myself- as a vampire that is. I had seen the route to get there in the cab driver's head when Carlisle had given him the name of the hospital. I arrived in the city much more quickly than when I had run with Carlisle.

I tried to keep to darkened streets, so that I could continue at my inhuman pace, but when I arrived at the hospital, there were too many people in the streets. I began to walk along at their gait, before stopping in an alley across from the hospital's front door.

I hadn't planned much beyond this point. This was the only connection I had to the girl- I knew that she had been working at the hospital. But was she still there?

I began searching through the minds of people in the hospital. No need to go in there and actually hunt her. Too dangerous. Not physically obviously, but it was unnecessary to call the attention of the entire hospital to a girl being attacked by a vampire. I had already prolonged hunting her so far; I could wait a little more until she was alone, and then enjoy the experience without distractions.

Hmm, I couldn't pick out her mind from the others. I could recall the tone of her voice from Carlisle's memories and that didn't seem to match with any of the ones I heard from the hospital. Nor could I see her from anyone's mind. It was rather late for her to be working still….

But if she wasn't, I wouldn't know where to go. Carlisle probably knew her home's address, but I hadn't been able to pick it out from his thoughts. But I supposed I could hunt along the streets, try to pick out her scent from the houses in this area. She couldn't live too far from here, could she?

I was about to start walking away from the hospital when a voice caught my attention. …_Wonder why that Swan girl didn't go home with the regular group of girls tonight. They said they looked around for her but couldn't find her. She did seem rather distracted tonight. But she's always been a bit off, kind of reminds me of cousin Ellie…_

The nurse stopped thinking about the girl, so I stopped listening to her after that. So, she hadn't walked home at the usual time? What did that mean? She was neither home, but she did not appear to be in the hospital anymore either. Where was she? The wind was blowing hard tonight, snow was falling lightly onto the ground once again- could it have erased her scent? But with a scent as potent as hers, I couldn't imagine that. The monster in me was growing annoyed, impatient. Snarls were building in my chest again and my breath hissed between my lips in frustration. I wanted that blood…

The wind blew strong against my face, and, as if breaking from the trenches of dark water to clean, crisp air, ration returned to my head. I was abruptly horrified at myself. In a very short amount of time, my life had turned completely upside down and I was a completely different person. I had been good, I had been ready to commit to Carlisle's way of life- a life of sacrifice for the greater good of protecting human life. And yet, here I was, having run away from Carlisle- lied to him- so that I could wait impatiently to murder an innocent girl.

What had I done?

As if in answer to the prayer of the monster in me, the hospital doors opened and the girl whose blood I was waiting ever so achingly to drink stepped out.

I had not been waiting here more than three minutes and she chose such a time to leave. A few minutes later, with the way the wind was blowing tonight, and I might have never found her.

Clearly, Isabella Swan had a case of bad luck.

She walked into the crowd of people who were walking along the streets. The wind was blowing away from us; I could not pick up on her scent. My head was still clean and ration was still in control.

I should leave now. There was still a choice.

And then I recalled her appallingly luscious scent and my body started to follow her, taking away any choice.

I followed several feet away. There were many humans around and were I but human, it might have been easy to lose her in the throng of people. But also, this girl did not seem to particularly stand out.

Isabella Swan looked to be about sixteen years old. She was neither tall nor short, and there was nothing out of the ordinary about her appearance. What could it possibly be about her that made her scent so different from anyone else's?

But as I watched, there was something singular about her- she was a tad frail-looking. She stumbled as she walked, though the pavement was smooth. She was weak, clumsy. More so than the average human.

This was doing nothing to help save me from taking her life.

She walked slightly slower than the other humans, whose gait was quick as they had somewhere to go, a purpose in mind. I could see her face in the others' minds: she stared straight ahead, as if she did not see anything. She looked to be too wrapped up in her thoughts. Her face was set in an expression of shock and, strangely, excitement.

This confused me and I was again reminded that I had not been able to access her mind yet. I tried now, concentrating on her form, as if that would help. I had really no idea how to make it stronger as it had always come without any effort of myself. After a few seconds, I realized that I was yielding nothing once more.

A part of me was worried that something was wrong with me now. Of course, the streets of Mt. Prospect had never been this crowded before; perhaps it was the fault of so many people surrounding us. And I was still young; I didn't know exactly the rules and regulations for vampire gifts were.

Still, I felt like I might be rationalizing to myself a bit. Perhaps it really was the girl that was different. What was it about her, so ordinary and unobtrusive and yet had such an inescapable, irresistible power on me?

I remembered what I had heard the other nurse in the hospital think. Isabella Swan normally walked home with another group of girls. Considering the time of night, this was rather late for her to be out. Why had she stayed longer at the hospital?

The wind continued to blow away from her so that the monster could not overtake me again. This allowed time to think- rational, sympathetic thoughts. And now, upon seeing the girl, Carlisle's crystal clear memories began to flood my mind once more. I could see the girl sitting with my mother, cooling her forehead with a rag, holding her hand. And there was my mother, relaxed on the hospital bed, chatting away with a smile on her face. It was easy to see the affection between the two. He'd even seen her attending in such a way for me…

Now that I was concentrating on it, I could dredge up some of my own memories of the girl. I could not exactly recall actual occurrences, but I could remember feeling… frustration towards the girl, because I could not understand her. I couldn't recall the actual reasons for my frustration, just that I'd noticed she was a very different kind of girl….

The crowds had thinned now, because Isabella Swan had haphazardly chosen a route which led into one of the poorer sections of the city. If she didn't already have a vampire stalking her, desperate to crush her throat and drink her blood, this place would really be quite dangerous for her all alone at night.

The streets were deadly quiet, even to me. And I could no longer blame crowds of people for blocking the girl's thoughts from me. For even in this utter silence, I could hear absolutely nothing from her.

I'd had it right when I was human: Isabella Swan was absolutely different.

She turned down a dead end alley, and it seemed here that she finally woke up from whatever daze she had been in. I hid from the mouth of the alley, watching her. She turned around abruptly, with a wary and aggravated expression. She looked weak and vulnerable again, but I did not see it through the eyes of the monster, but with the eyes of compassion.

"What are you doing?" she spoke in a clear voice and for a second I thought she was talking to me. Or perhaps she could read _my_ thoughts, for that was exactly what I had been thinking. She shook her head at herself and began to walk toward the end of the alley.

My body stilled. This was my chance. But I didn't want to take it anymore.

This girl had no reason to die. Why should it be her fault for having such a potent scent? Why should she die for that?

I could just leave. I could just leave her alive. She would never know anything.

Yet my body, or the monster in me, had more trouble accepting this decision, but I forced it to turn. But as I was about to walk away, the thoughts of another human in the alley caught my attention. He'd been asleep this whole time, or at least, not conscious, but the sound of the girl's voice awoke him. He was slightly intoxicated, but he was aware now, and it had been such a long time since such a pretty little thing had crossed his path…

I froze, reading his intents. I had just saved this girl's life by trying to leave her, when another person was already trying to take it away again.

This girl was a magnet for danger. Was that the reason for her maddening scent?

Why couldn't there be anyone else around here? I could not be her savior; I could not afford to get too close to her. The man had already closed his dirty, grimy hands around her arm, his putrid breath close to her mouth.

"Come here sweet…"

Without a thought in my head, I moved closer to the pair- to do what, I did not know. My hands closed over the collar of his shirt and in that second, the wind changed, blowing all of the girl's scent at me. I was no longer a man but an animal and my razor-sharp teeth sunk into the first thing that they touched.

I could tell immediately that it was the wrong blood. Still the best blood I had ever tasted, but not the one that I wanted.

There was no way to stop however, so I drank until his veins ran dry. I had brought him to the wall of the alley, and when I was done, I let his corpse crumple to the floor.

I looked down at the human I had just killed. I knew it was justified, that he'd deserved it. I knew that by so doing, I had saved this girl's life. But with his blood running through my body, it had not calmed the torching ache that called for hers either. It had only inflamed it.

I turned slowly towards her, calculatingly. Her breath was coming short, and her heart was in a sprint. They sounded like a delicious symphony to me.

My eyes met hers. Her face, which had been drawn tight in obvious fear and deliberation, transformed as she took in my appearance. Instead of increasing in panic, as it doubtlessly should have, every feature, every line of her face relaxed into an expression of peace and security. These were the feelings I could identify, but there appeared another emotion that was so opposite, I could not comprehend it.

It was joy.

"It's you," she whispered. "Edward."

_Edward_. I suddenly heard Carlisle's thoughts from behind the girl, walking silently, cautiously. His hands were raised, whether to protect her or stop me, I couldn't tell. He had gone to the girl's house at first, thinking that she had gone home already and then checked the hospital. Always trying to protect the weak, instead of preventing the strong.

He looked at me calmly, or as calm as the situation could allow.

_You don't have to do this, Edward. You can turn away now._

I realized that since the girl had said my name, I had frozen in my footsteps. I did not turn my gaze away from her face as sense returned slowly to me.

Carlisle was ever patient and forgiving and understanding but I knew what he must think of me now. Carlisle, who had lived centuries of existence without ever tasting human blood, and here I was with the corpse of a man at my feet after less than a year of this new life. And that wasn't enough to satisfy me, because I was now one small footstep away from sinking my teeth into the soft flesh of and drinking all of this innocent girl's blood. This girl who, despite the obvious changes in my appearance and my threatening demeanor, had that inexplicable look of joy on her face when she recognized me…

I looked at her, staring into her wide, trusting brown eyes. In the reflection of them, I saw my face: the black hair, the white skin, and the eyes filled with the bright red blood of a human.

Carlisle was _wrong_. I was a monster, and there could be no doubt that I had indeed lost my soul.

The monster in me let out a wild hiss of frustration between my teeth, and I fled into the dark.

Author's note: As stated in the summary, the point of this story is to see how the story of Edward and Bella would change if Bella had lived in 1918. So, when planning this story, I had to ask myself what things would have to change, and what things could not change. And for me, the two essential characteristics of Bella and Edward's relationship is that 1) he is a vampire and she is a human when they begin their real relationship, and 2) Bella's blood calls to Edward more strongly than any other.

So my dilemma in writing this was of course to overcome the problem of Bella's blood in the story, since in Twilight it was supposed to take eighty years for Edward to build up enough strength to overcome the call of it. But that couldn't remain the same in this story obviously, unless you all want to read about Edward falling in love with a ninety-year old Bella (sorry, but this story _won't_ be going in that direction…;). Another way that one could resolve that problem would be to have Edward immediately change Bella into a vampire, but for me, that takes away everything about Edward and Bella's story. I wouldn't be writing about Edward and Bella anymore and I don't want to do that. So, for the purposes of this story, I'm going with the assumption that no matter what time period they were in, Bella's blood would always be more tempting to Edward than any others, but he would always have enough strength to overcome it. Obviously the strength of a scent that completely changed Edward's world eighty years from his transformation compared to only a year after would be vastly different, but would probably feel the same. And that's what I'm going with.


	11. Monster

**Monster**

Roger Jeffries was having a bad day. He could hear them coming after him, searching for him. They were just two blocks away now. If he made any move, any noise, they would find him. He was trapped.

Roger had been having a very good day. He'd been planning this day for weeks. Ever since he first saw her that day in the park, with her blond curls blowing in the wind, the pretty blue dress she wore flowing out when she twirled.... he'd known- it had to be her.

And so he'd waited; watched her from afar. This was how it always happened. Just watching. Just wanting to see them play. But it always turned into something more. He always ended up wanting more.

And so Roger would take his observations of the girl and turn them into his own conclusions: the child spent most of her time with her nurse, so the parents obviously did not love her; the child fell and scraped her knees, the nurse was obviously incompetent; and the little girl sometimes sang sad little songs to herself, she was obviously unhappy.

That was when he knew that he must save this little girl. He could be the one to make her happy. Just like all the others…

_Don't think about the others now!_ Roger thought angrily to himself. _Those were mistakes, bad mistakes. Mistakes could be corrected._

Today had gone just as he'd planned. The little girl always came to the park on Tuesday afternoons. They often would go for a walk there, letting the cold winter air refresh them. The little girl often ran ahead of the nurse, to seek out pretty flowers and birds and things. Sometimes the nurse let her play ahead of her; sometimes she stopped to talk with a friend or acquaintance. Sometimes the little girl went off the path, all by herself.

Today had been unusually lucky. The nurse had a slight cough and looked tired as they'd walked down the path. She'd sat down on a nearby bench quickly, pressing a hand on her forehead as if she had a headache.

"Mary," she'd called out wearily to the girl.

But Mary was preoccupied with the birds she heard chirping from the trees.

"It is a robin! I know it!" she cried delightedly and ran off the path towards the sound.

The nurse called the girl's name once more, but she did not move from the bench, too tired to get up.

Mary walked far off the path, into the snow banked foliage. There were no more sounds of birds when she finally stopped and looked around her confusedly.

When she turned around, she gasped and her little hands flew up to cover her mouth when she saw the man behind her. He had taken her by surprise.

He knelt down on one knee, so that his face was level with hers. He smiled kindly at her. "Have you found your pretty robins?" he asked gently.

She shook her head shyly.

"Let us go find them," he said, offering her his hand. She obligingly placed her small gloved hand in his large, calloused one, and he led her off further into the woods.

It had been as simple as that. It had gone more seamlessly than he could have ever planned. Clearly, it had been the right thing to do if Providence was helping him along so smoothly.

But he hadn't planned well the part after. Getting the girl had been his sole focus, and he hadn't thought much beyond that. He hadn't thought that he would need to take her away from the city.

Even now he couldn't understand how it had happened so quickly. He was sure they could remain at his apartment indefinitely, because the parents did not care for this child, neither did her nurse. They wouldn't cause much of a fuss. He had learned his lesson with the others.

The girl had been very docile and quiet. Only a few times did she ask when she would go home. Roger told her that this was her home now, and he was her new friend, and she must listen to what he said and do as she was told.

It was only a few hours before Al Bircher came hollering through the building, calling Roger's name.

He'd opened his apartment door to find Al standing there, banging on his wall still. He looked more than a little drunk, but then, Al always looked that way.

"Police are after yeh," he'd wheezed at him, smiling a little as if he somehow found this amusing.

After a second of shocked pause, Roger growled at him,"what for?"

Al leaned against the doorframe, most likely to steady himself from falling down. "I heard some missus goin' through the park just now, tellin' some cop that her girl is missin'. She tol' him what the li'l girl look like, an' I says, 'Ol' Roger's always down in that park, bet he'd seen something of it."

Stupid Al. He'd almost ruined everything, just so that he could be part of the excitement, to edge closer to the limelight. He had no idea what he'd done. But this had happened before and Roger knew what to do. He had to get out.

He'd crept out the back door with his hand closed tightly over the girl's mouth so she couldn't scream. Just as he'd turned the corner of the street, he'd seen a police officer step up to the front door of his apartment building. But the officer hadn't seen him slink away.

That was hours ago. He'd been able to evade them for some time, hoping that when night came, it would make things easier. He'd hidden in alleys, around garbage pails and debris, so that they couldn't find him. The streets of New York City, filthy as they were, did make for good hiding places.

It was just for now. Just while the police were still about. When they were gone, they could be on their way to a new life. He couldn't use the train of course, too public. But he'd prefer not to walk either- it was December, for goodness sake. It would do no good for the both of them to freeze to death.

The child wasn't making things easier. She was frightened now. He didn't want her to be frightened, didn't want to be cross with her, to hurt her. But it was necessary during times like these.

She whimpered into his hand now, her small body shivering from the cold against his body, and he could feel her tears rolling down onto his skin.

"What?" he asked harshly. He loosened the hold on her mouth slightly so that she could speak.

"I want to see my mother," she sobbed.

Her voice, small and broken as it was, echoed a little off the walls of the alley.

"Shut up!" he hissed and clamped his hand tighter onto her mouth than before. He waited, listening for sounds of anyone coming. There was no change. "You'll do as you're told or you'll never see your mother and father again!"

But this was a lie, for no matter what the child did, she would never see her parents again. Because if he couldn't have her, they certainly shouldn't. They didn't deserve a good little girl like this, and he would sacrifice her so that they would learn. They would never even find her body. Or at least they wouldn't recognize it when they did.

But that wasn't how he wanted things to turn out. He didn't want to have to do that to her, for her to end up like the others. That was just his last option.

They could still get out now. But every time he thought he could leave finally, a police officer would pass by the mouth of the alley, a pistol ready in its sling at his waist. They were searching through the area around the park. Could they really still be searching for him though?

Two police officers that had crossed paths near the alley answered his question.

"Have you gone down Tenth Street yet, Will?" the first asked.

"No, but I've gone down every other it seems like."

"I don't understand, are we really looking for this Jeffries bloke just to ask him if he saw the child in the park?"

"Didn't you hear it from the chief? He says after that man described Jeffries to him, the nurse said she recalled a man like that often in the park, watching them. She'd been suspicious of him, but hadn't thought to worry today because she hadn't seen him. Anyway, the chief is pretty sure it's him."

"And they couldn't find him in his apartment?"

"No, but they did find some ribbons that the nurse recognized and a mitten that has the family's initials. She said they'd lost it weeks ago, so he's probably been watching for a while. They also found some articles of her clothing that she'd been wearing today," he added with extreme disgust in his voice.

"Better get back to searching then. Do you think he'd stay around here, though?"

"I've no idea." The police officer cocked his head and lifted his lantern further into the alley. Roger didn't dare breath from behind the rubbish he hid behind.

After a few agonizing seconds of perusal through the shadows, the officer shook his head and turned back to his friend. "No, we've been searching here for hours. He can't have stayed. I'll ask the chief to start checking the train stations."

The second officer nodded and they parted at the entrance of the alley. Roger let himself breathe again only to seethe in fury at that idiot Al. Because in addition to telling the police in the first place of his existence, he must have let them into his apartment to search through it. Stupid fool!

Of course, he should have known by now not to keep things like that. It was only evidence that could condemn him. But he just couldn't resist when the ribbons had slipped from the little girl's hair as she skipped down the park path. And when she'd set down her gloves to play in the snow, he'd only taken one. Just to remember, to cherish.

Well, he wouldn't make mistakes again. Things had gotten close, but the worst was over. They were leaving. They were going to search the trains and he knew how to get around those. Perhaps walking wasn't such a bad idea.

He waited until it was completely silent. They were gone. He was free. The girl was his.

But what Roger Jeffries didn't know, was that _I_ was waiting for him.

This was one of my usual spots for hunting- the location almost always afforded a good choice for a meal as it was always filled with degenerates. I never had to wait long for them, perhaps an hour or two. Between eleven and three at night were the best times, because that was when all of the robbings, kidnappings, and murders happened. Or almost happened, until I came along.

It hadn't taken long to see that Roger Jeffries was a prime candidate for my style of punishment either. Repeat offenders were automatically included.

He was dragging the girl to the entrance of the alley and looked from the shadows to see if there was anyone around. No one was around however, at least, that he could see with his weak human eyes. They passed over my still form against the building across the street without any recognition.

Just when he felt that all was safe, when that sweet relief of nondiscovery flooded throughout him, I stepped out of the shadows. His face registered my sudden appearance with total shock and for a second he was completely immobilized as I strolled leisurely towards him. After a few seconds pause, he then decided to make a run for it.

"I don't think so," I murmured, pulling one of his bulky arms and snapping it in just the right place to pop it out of its socket. It made a nice cracking sound that reverberated in the still night air.

He cried out, and his body arched back in pain. I shoved the kneecap of his left leg back, propelling his heavy form forward. It was more than easy to use the motion of his fall to relocate the child from his arms to mine.

He landed on the ground in front of me and nearly rolled into the street. That wouldn't do if someone did come by, so I lightly kicked him into the dark alley once more. His body smacked against the brick wall, cracking some ribs by the sound of it. He did not move, but moaned pitifully into the ground. He was quite disoriented, but not unconscious, and that was good. Being unaware of everything took away the whole point.

And this was protocol. When victims were involved, I always had to disable their captors first so that they couldn't leave, but it could only be the bare minimum amount. Obviously the intended victims did not need to see the punishment of their assassins, no matter how justified.

This was certainly the case for the eight year old child I held in my arms now. She was terrified beyond belief, quivering in my arms as if she were having a seizure. I had better get her out of here before giving her any more cause for horror.

But this was always the part I liked least.

With a sigh, I turned my face towards her. "Mary," I said softly.

Her small face jerked up to meet mine, and her expression never wavered from one of total fear and bewilderment. Her blue eyes were large round circles as they stared at me in shock.

My teeth grit slightly at the familiar expression of fear. The victims all had that same look. And it didn't matter what they looked like- the differences in coloring or age.

All I ever saw was _her_ face.

I set her down carefully on her feet, and led her down to the end of a side street. I pointed towards one of the storefronts.

"Do you see that store, Mary? Go into it and tell the storekeeper your name. Tell him to call for the police."

She looked at the store, then her eyes flitted back to mine, still with that bewildered look. She deliberated for a second on whether to trust my advice, then flung herself across the street to the store.

I watched until she was safely inside. Then with a grim twist on my lips, I turned back to my meal.

He was quivering in the same position I had left him. I had shattered his kneecap, so he couldn't move even if he wanted to, but he was so frightened he had no desire to try. He thought I was a police officer who had waited for him and he was berating himself for not being more careful.

I started to laugh, coldly and without any humor. My voice startled him; apparently my return had been too quiet for him to hear. His head raised and he looked up at me in panic. He'd been very slightly hoping that I would not come back.

I smiled widely at him, showing all of my glistening teeth. "Yes, Roger- you should have been more careful. I thought you said you'd learned your lesson with all of the others?"

He stared at me in shock for a second, wondering how on earth I could know this. Because he had never been caught before, so no one should know of the others.

He tried to raise himself up to run away, so I casually backhanded him across his face- the force of which flung him into a broken window set low on the alley's walls. Hundreds of tiny glass shards sliced through his face, and if he were going to live through this, his face would forever be a horrible scarred mass. So it was a good thing that Roger Jeffries was not going to live through this…

"Yes, I know," I whispered, lowering myself closer to his face. The closer proximity increased his terror. My grin stretched further at that. "I know everything. I know their names, I know where it happened, I know where you buried each of their bodies. And you should be grateful, because I'm going to let you pay for all of your crimes tonight, rather than your whole life. Of course, after you die," I shrugged lightly, "I'm afraid it's out of my hands. And I've heard that hell is not known for its benevolence in torture..."

He rolled away from me, in a desperate attempt to get away somehow. That made one of his cracked ribs slice into his lungs, and he gasped at the pain. I caught his hands in mine, and leisurely brought each finger back to touch his forearm, snapping it into quarters.

"Just what have these hands done?" I commented through his screams, enjoying the sound as I heard the breaking crack of his last finger. "Best that you don't use them at all anymore, don't you think?"

He lay on his back, his crumpled hands raised in a plea. He was crying now, and his disfigured face was pathetic as it stared up into mine. "Please! It was a mistake!" he whimpered. "I didn't mean her any harm- I'd never hurt an innocent. I'll never do it again!"

"Ah, but that's what you always say, Roger. And I don't think you ever mean it. So perhaps you shouldn't use your mouth anymore either, if you only use it to tell such lies." I took his jaw between my thumb and index finger, and with one quick, simple snap, crushed it into itself.

He screamed, or he screamed as much as a person with a shattered jaw is able to. His body, broken and mangled in so many places, writhed with the pain. I wondered if I should let this go on much longer. Breaking every part of his body seemed a good punishment for all he had done, before I started to drink his blood, but the police would be coming soon for the girl. I had better end it now.

"I could snap your neck right now, Roger- that way you wouldn't be able to feel it when I empty your body of all its blood. That's what I do sometimes for the less evil ones. But I don't think you've felt quite enough pain yet. Not for everything _you've _done."

I stretched my lips over my teeth and lowered my head towards his thick neck. His pulse rocketed through his veins. I felt the venom flood my mouth, my body key up in anticipation for when his blood would touch my tongue.

_They all deserved it! _He thought bitterly. _It was their own fault for what I did!_

His last thoughts stilled my body for a prolonged second. I looked into his face, and all I could see was a crazed, justified expression on his ruined face.

With a sickened twist of my lips, I flung his body away from me. He smacked into a pile of broken furniture. He slumped onto the ground, finally unconscious.

Clearly, Roger Jeffries was insane- his mind had become corrupted beyond any normal rationality. So I shouldn't take the thoughts he'd been thinking when he'd finally been caught too much for granted. And truthfully it was not the words themselves that disturbed me so much.

It was because they sounded all too familiar.

That night long ago in April, the night I tried very hard not to think about too often, I had had to come to certain conclusions about myself. Firstly, that I was not capable of living the life Carlisle had taught me. My body desired human blood and I was obviously not above taking a life for it. Even desiring the life of an innocent girl….

_But_, as I had decided that night, I didn't have to hunt her. I could temper the bloodlust with those of the less deserving. Not one of their bloods had tasted even a tenth of how delicious hers had smelled, but it was a compromise I had been willing to make. Because as long as I used my abilities, hunting the worst of the worst kinds of humans, then I wasn't really bad, was I? In a way, I was _protecting _the innocent. Just as I had protected her life by taking that of another....

For a whole nine months I had lived this way, searching out the cities with the largest crime rates, waiting in the dank, decrepit places to catch a person worthy of my standards. I found them easily. And for a long while I felt fairly free of guilt for what I was doing.

But the memory of that night never left my mind, nor the tumult of emotions associated with it. It was an uncomfortable combination of torturous guilt for what I had almost done, and still, even after so many months, a terribly potent desire for the girl's blood.

And I could see now that, though I had told myself at the beginning that I was just following the lifestyle I had already thought of living, I had only been running away from what had happened that night. From Carlisle. From _her._

Roger Jeffries had committed countless atrocities and yet there he lay, believing himself still to be completely justified in what he had done.

Was I really that different from him?

I shoved myself up from the ground angrily. He was still unconscious, but I didn't care. I would not be using him for a meal anymore, as I suddenly found I had no appetite. I would allow the real police to decide his punishment.

I left his body out in front of the store that I had sent the little girl to. The police would be coming in a few seconds and should have no trouble in identifying him. I walked back into the dark streets.

What if he had been telling the truth- about this being the last time? From what I could tell from his thoughts, I very much doubted it, but… what if? He had made mistakes, but he could have changed. Who was I to decide his judgment- to play God?

The bell for midnight tolled and I realized faintly that it had been December 31st today. Now it was the first of January. A new year.

Now that I thought of it, Roger Jeffries and I were much too alike, and I was in exactly the same position as him: having made mistakes, but also having the choice of stopping their continuation. I couldn't ignore the errors of my past, but I didn't have to persist in them for my future. I could change.

But I needed help, I knew that. I could not do it alone. And I realized that I didn't want to do it alone. I wanted that life with Carlisle. I wanted the peace it gave me.

And I would need to conquer this desire for human blood. And I knew the one person whose blood I needed to overcome the most.

****

It took me less than a day to reach Mt. Prospect, traveling by foot. It was a good thing it was January and the days were always clouded over, so I needn't wait for night to come.

I didn't really think that Carlisle would still be living here, but I had no other clues to go by. He had said something of moving to Wisconsin next, so I would go there next if I found nothing here, but I wanted to at least try. He might have given the landowners some kind of knowledge of his next location. Then again, it would likely be a ruse, in case anyone got suspicious.

I had tried to hunt on animals as I went along. It was harder than I expected. I really did need Carlisle's help with this, at least for moral support.

And a part of me, the most base part, was very eager to return to Chicago, to see the girl again. Because going back meant that I would be that much closer to her appallingly delicious scent. And that much closer to finally tasting it….

But that wasn't going to happen, if Carlisle could just help me. And if I could conquer hers, I was sure I would never desire another human's blood for the rest of my existence.

This was all assuming that Carlisle would at all accept me back, which by any right, he shouldn't. Or that I would even find him. He could be anywhere in the world right now.

It stopped me short when, upon entering the vicinity of the house we'd lived in, I found that someone was there. And it shocked me more when, after reading their thoughts, I realized that it was Carlisle.

He could hear the descent of someone coming closer, and he could tell that it was one of our kind. But it wasn't until I came close enough to the house that he could catch my scent that he realized who it was.

He didn't think of the hurt I'd caused him, or the horrible way that I had left him. He didn't think in revulsion of what I had done that April night. Or what I likely had been doing all of these months since then.

He raced to the door, flung it open, and caught me in an embrace before I could do or say anything. His mind held nothing but peace and joy.

"I always hoped," he whispered. "I knew I shouldn't, but I always hoped that you'd return, Edward."

After a moment, I stepped away. "Thank you. But, you may not think that when you hear of what I've done," I told him quietly.

I shouldn't have been surprised by Carlisle's reaction of my history, for I would have expected it of him with anyone else. But it still stunned me when he listened to everything I said with only understanding and compassion. Never, even in his thoughts, was he repulsed by what I had done, and he was more than generous in offering to help me return back to his way of living.

"I knew you would never lose yourself entirely, Edward- never hunt the innocent," he told me confidently.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after that night," he began more carefully. "I kept a close watch over the Swan girl. I wanted to make sure that, should your senses overtake you again, I would be able to protect her. And then the weeks and months passed but you never came after her again." He smiled at me, and I saw the pride he held for me in it. "If you were able to overcome your desire for _her_ blood, I knew that, whatever you might be doing, you could not be preying on anyone else as... undeserving. And it taught me to hope that you might return to me someday."

My eyes shifted down to look at my hands twisted together, as I felt the guilt course through me. "That's just the thing, Carlisle. I… I think that was the only way I could resist her blood- by hunting others'. And I don't think I'll be able to really… commit to this life until I can conquer the desire for her blood."

He frowned slightly, confused. "How do you intend to do that Edward?"

"The same way that I did for all humans, I only need prolonged exposure. Just a few days, or weeks maybe- however long to overcome it. Then we can move onto wherever you'd like."

He paused, wanting to not undermine my confidence in myself. "I don't know that that's the best course of action, Edward. I was able to keep Isabella Swan from knowing of my presence that night, but you can imagine the risks for her as well as us if you get too close to her, or if she recognizes us. Perhaps it would be best if we simply move immediately."

I shook my head. "It wouldn't make any difference, Carlisle. I've been trying to overcome it for the past nine months, and it still feels as strong as it did on that first day." My lips twisted in disgust for myself. I hated to admit this. "Besides, I just need to be around her scent. There's no reason for her to see us at all."

Carlisle nodded, hesitant at the idea, but wanting to be optimistic. I doubted he could ever be otherwise for any significant amount of time.

He stood up and smiled more easily at me. "Let's leave that till tomorrow. But, for now, why don't we go for a hunt?"

My smile turned into a grimace. This was going to be harder than I thought. But I knew it would all be worth it. If it could just work.

Author's note: Sorry again for the slow posting. I just got my own computer, and I think that this will help me to write more quickly. But also I now have reduced hours at work, so that will help too. And, just in case I get any comments about this, from now on, the storyline will entirely focus on Bella and Edward's relationship. So get ready for the ooey goodness. ;)


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